Kindred Souls
by Huinari
Summary: -Instead of Cynthia, the other Champion of Sinnoh goes to Unova's town of rippling waves. Hilbert/Dawn.
1. for days and moons i wander

**Kindred Souls**

-Instead of Cynthia, the other Champion of Sinnoh goes to Unova's town of rippling waves.

 **AN:** So I began writing this because I love this crack ship, but I can't find a story for it. Somehow I doubt there's going to be very much romance in here. Yeah. Cover image credit: doodleblah on Tumblr.

Songs: 'Days and Moons' by Elsa Kopf. 'Holiday' by Green Day.

* * *

 _For days and moons_  
 _And days and moons I wander_  
 _The days are long but honey the nights are longer_  
 _Stars alight up my way_  
 _When I close my eyes and pray…._

./.

"You need a vacation."

Hilbert, toying with his Samurott's Poké ball, didn't look up. "I've been at this job for three months," he replied mildly. Spin. Wobble. Grab. Rinse and repeat. "Am I really that bad at it that you want me out already?"

It wasn't a lie.

Marshal gave a snort. "The problem isn't how many challengers you manage to beat off when we let them by, kid, you're overworking yourself. For Re - _Cobalion's_ sake, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"

Hilbert ignored the near-slip of Marshal's tongue, because it was not uncommon for people to sensor themselves around him. Not anymore.

Besides, Marshal was one of the few people he could stand to be around. The man had no guile or falsities – he wasn't made for that. He was direct, straightforward, and Hilbert appreciated that very much.

"Do I look cool?" he asked instead. The worn sphere spun on the smooth, polished wood of his desk, and the white underside began flipping. He readjusted it before spinning it again. "I always thought I'd look cool with a five o'clock shadow and bags under my eyes. Kind of like this mysterious champion look, y'know?"

"Kid, you look like a druggie."

He shrugged. Truth. At least this one didn't hurt.

"Seriously," Marshal said, and pulled a chair out so he could sit in front of the desk. Hilbert imagined an unruly student meeting with a hippie teacher and tried not to laugh. He failed.

The fighting-type expert ignored his sudden, unexplained snickers. "It's July," he said. "Go and enjoy life. Be a kid."

A kid, huh? Hilbert shrugged him off, and then, to make him leave, began asking the most boring and mind-numbing questions he could on the different sections of paperwork.

Marshal knew he was getting played, but left nonetheless.


	2. til then i walk alone

**AN:** Cool fact - this shipping's name is flashlightshipping.

Song: 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' by Green Day

* * *

 _My shadow's the only one that walks beside me_  
 _My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating_  
 _Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me_  
 _'Til then I walk alone_

./.

In the end, it didn't matter that he had managed to chase away Marshal, because two hours of procrastination and three needlessly complicated forms later, the other three members of Unova's Elite Four descended upon him like a flock of Mandibuzz after dying prey. The second wave of attack. The third would probably be Alder.

"You look horrible," Shauntal began with a blunt comment, and then her eyes lit up. Recognizing that she had been struck by her muse, the others let her slip back and yank out a notebook to frantically scribble in.

Grimsley smoothly took over. "A vacation is just what the doctor – and Alder – prescribed," he said, not bothering with any sly jokes or careful manoeuvring. Interesting.

And, despite what he was after, appreciated.

Caitlin was even blunter. One hand covered a yawn, while the other threw a key into his lap. "The address is written on the tag," she said as he picked it up by the plastic tag it was attached to. "Don't lose it, please. I hate replacing locks on my villa."

Hilbert stared at the key, lying there in his lap. Did they think he was a kid? After all _he_ had to do for _them_ , they thought they could plan his path out for him and expect him to just obediently follow along?

Despite his decision to remain aloof in the hopes that he wouldn't get close or hurt, he felt anger boiling under his skin like –

 _(liquid fire of the gods burning through his veins, screams of souls belonging to heroes that had come before him to make a contract and become Truth's Avatar, the booming voice in his head, beautiful but so terrible at the same time, blazing blue eyes without mercy –_

 _Can you handle the truth?_ _)_

Grimsely looked at him with worry, and he realized that he must have made some kind of a face. Hilbert took in a shaky breath and reined in his temper. He couldn't lash out, or get mad. They were genuinely worried about him overworking and ending up in the hospital, or dead.

This was an intervention. And perhaps, judging from how he had nearly lost his temper just then, a needed one.

"Where is this?" he asked, instead of refusing. A vacation might do him some good. And if all four of them were trying to get him to take one, it was probably necessary.

Probably best to follow the judgement of his elders.

 _Heh._

Caitlin looked bored, but her eyes glinted in victory as she recognized that he had given up. "Undella. It's my personal villa, so have no worries about letting your Pokémon out. If you destroy anything, however, you _will_ pay for it."

Undella. Rich community known to be a good place to go to for a vacation if one had the money and the prestige for it. Of course Lady Caitlin of Old, Old Money would have a villa there – she was the closest thing to a princess Unova could have.

Grimsley decided to play the wise guy now. "Your vacation, should you choose to accept it, begins now."

At the attempted humour, Hilbert cracked a smile. "Fine," he said, grabbing the key and standing up. Maybe he'd like being sequestered away from most of humanity, even more than he was here at the League. All he'd have to do was stay inside and not go out. He could watch action movies, or just cook for his Pokémon, or just walk around naked and read books.

Just as he was leaving, however, Caitlin's words made him stop. "But you may have to share for a while."

Hilbert, in the middle of taking a step, faltered. Share?

If this was a plot to get him to talk to Cheren and Bianca –

"Relax," Caitlin said behind him, and there was a snooty sniff in there somewhere, he could just hear it. "It's not anyone you've met before."

Which made it _so_ much _better_ , sharing a villa with a complete _stranger_.

"If you don't want to," Shauntal said, putting away her notebook after having penned her ephemeral ideas down on paper, where they would be safe and stay for her leisurely writing later on. "You don't have to go, Hilbert."

'Even if it would be good for you' went unsaid.

Still, even while Shauntal was offering a way out of this for him, she was being sincere. "I can handle it," he said, and then left the room. He'd fly to Undella. His Swoobat could use the exercise, and quite frankly, he could use the fresh air and change in atmosphere as well.


	3. breathe me

**AN** : Thank you shoutout to Gerbilfriend, who made fanart for this story (and prompted me to update earlier than planned)!

Song: 'Breathe Me' by Sia

* * *

 _Help, I have done it again_  
 _I have been here many times before_  
 _Hurt myself again today_  
 _And the worst part is there's no one else to blame_

./.

He arrived in the evening, as the sun began to disappear from sight. The town was full of villas owned by rich people who liked having a second (or third, or fourth, or whatever number they decided was suitable) home in an expensive place, but it wasn't hard to figure out where he was supposed to go after briefly checking a map. In the fading light, no one gave much thought to a shabbily dressed young man with a rucksack walking to a certain destination, face hidden by his cap.

And he preferred it that way. If someone recognized him and made a big deal out of it, he'd probably do something that he would regret later on. And result in a pretty heavy lawsuit.

Without running into anyone, he arrived at Caitlin's villa. After checking the address one last time, he slipped the key in and unlocked the door.

For such a fancy villa, the insides were incredibly messy. The kitchen, small but all polished maple and thick marble counters, was covered in no less than six old, grease-stained pizza boxes that he _hoped_ to all the legendaries were empty. Opened soda cans of cheerful shades stood around the kitchen island, small beacons of bright colour between crushed takeout containers.

There was a distinct odor hanging around inside, that of stale food that had hung around too long, and stale air, like a NEET's cave-room. Underlying the unpleasant smell of old food and grime was the odor of depression, the smell of someone who did not give a shit and had given up altogether.

He would know. For a while after _The Incident_ , his room had been filled with the same smell, until his mother had come in, cleaned everything up by shoving all the trash in large plastic bags and sprayed it all down with air freshener before pushing him towards the Elite Four where he had found distraction in the form of work.

Work was alright. The paperwork was never fun, and pointless since Alder had to go through it and pretty much rewrite the whole thing, but that part could be handled alone, which Hilbert was fine with.

As for battling, battling always made everything feel better. They called him a genius, and told him that he was talented, that he had an incredible bond with his Pokémon.

Whatever anyone said about him or his team didn't matter, not once they were battling. He fought with them, for each and every struggle, every clash, his spirit there with them as they moved the earth and manipulated energy to fell the foe. Challengers that managed to pass the Elite Four were enough to make him and his team have to work for it, and when no one came the Elite Four let him use them as practice dummies.

But even if that was good for training and getting stronger, there was only so much they could bear, trapped in a mini castle of sorts. Even in the pinnacle of Unova's finest battling, there were still lies, still roundabout ways of avoiding the truth and gray instability.

It was funny how he sympathized with N and his ideas of cleanly separating black and white after challenging him and taking down those very beliefs.

Hearing the sound of someone stirring, Hilbert turned to the direction of the living room. There were no walls or doors between the lower level rooms – except, of course, the bathroom – and he, standing at the entrance of the villa, could see the outline and silhouettes of the kitchen, the dining room, and the lounge, even if any distinguishing features or colours they may have had were covered by the darkness of the coming night.

Twilight still gave him enough to see the stirring figure that rose from the largest sofa, the only one with its back towards him. The light fell mostly towards Hilbert, and left his roommate for the near future in the dark, but judging from the silhouette and how only the head was visible over the furniture's back, his roommate for the near future was pretty small in stature.

"Hi," he said, deciding to introduce himself in case his roommate mistook him for a robber or something. "I'm Hilbert, a co-worker of Caitlin's. We're roommates for now."

Roomie didn't flinch or speak. Instead, the figure's head nodded, and then sunk back.

Alright, then. That went okay.

Readjusting his bag's strap on his shoulder, Hilbert climbed up the stairs to the second floor, where the air was cleaner. The corridor to the right had three doors, but all were closed firmly. The corridor to the left had two, but he guessed that both rooms were slightly bigger.

One of the two was open, and he saw an untouched, empty bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a cream-coloured bedside table through the doorway.

That would do.

Hilbert dumped his bag, kicked off his shoes, and then jumped onto the bed, still in his jeans and jacket. The mattress felt pretty awesome for his tired back, and he made a mental note to find out where he could buy one for himself. Knowing Caitlin and the kind of money she came from, it would probably be unreasonably expensive, but he still wanted one.

He adjusted his position, nudged the pillow into shape with the back of his head, and then closed his eyes.


	4. sun is up

**AN** : In case you were wondering, KS is a future to a parallel world to Titanium. So, they're related, but not that much and aren't directly canon with each other. If that makes no sense, good.

Song: 'Chandelier' by Sia.

* * *

 _Sun is up, I'm a mess_  
 _Gotta get out now, gotta run from this_  
 _Here comes the shame, here comes the shame_

./.

Roomie turned out to be a girl. A very messy looking girl. Her dark blue hair, carelessly strewn around her head like a blind and old Murkrow's nest, was greasy and looked like it hadn't been washed in days. Her face was sallow and gaunt, and her eyes just looked tired. Her large shirt and shorts were wrinkled, and she stank of sweat and stale air.

If he had looked like a druggie, she looked like a hobo. What a pair the two of them made.

"Morning," he said as she shuffled into the kitchen from her nest at the sofa. The toaster popped out the two pieces of bread he had put in it, and he admired how perfectly they had come out. The right shade of warm gold with just enough burn on the outside to be crunchy, but not fully burnt. Delightful. He might just steal this toaster when his vacation was finished.

And then he'd tell Caitlin, of course, because being truthful was important between fellow employees. But he was sure she'd survive the loss.

"Morning," Roomie croaked back at him, voice hoarse from disuse. She opened the fridge, and after peering blearily at its insides, pulled out a juice carton.

"So she speaks," he muttered before he could hold back his tongue. When she looked at him with flat eyes, he shrugged and gave her a small smile to show that it was a joke. Sort of.

Well, not intended in ill will, anyways. "What's your name, Roomie?"

She stared at him for a long time. Hilbert got the feeling that she was searching for something, and judging by her dark eyes were opening wider and looking more, well, alive, she couldn't find it.

In the end, she gave up. "Dawn," she mumbled, and averted her eyes from his so she could take a glass out from a cabinet and fill it with the last of the juice.

Then, with glass in hand, she shuffled past him and snagged a slice of cold pizza from what he hoped was the newest pizza box of the bunch in the kitchen.

All in all, Hilbert thought as he studied her chewing on her piece of carbohydrate cardboard flavoured with greasy meat, cold cheese and cheap tamato-berry sauce, not a roommate he had expected. Despite her casual way of handing them over to him, he didn't think for one second that Caitlin would have randomly handed the keys to her villa to just anyone, and he doubted that Dawn was an actual hobo who had simply broken into the villa to stay for a while. How did someone like her even know the classy princess?

And there was something about her that bothered him very much. He just couldn't figure it out. Maybe he knew her? Caitlin hadn't lied, but she had said that he hadn't _met_ her. He could have still known who she was.

Maybe she was a former child star, now falling into a state of self-destructive ruin? If so, well, what a pair they made together.

"Please stop staring," Dawn said, and her voice broke his thoughts. He hadn't even realized that he had been staring at her. "I'm not wearing a bra, and it's embarrassing."

He looked away at her request, but held back a snigger. Honest, wasn't she –

It was like Zekrom's Fusion Bolt had struck him out of nowhere ( _although, he wouldn't know the feeling, because Reshiram had intercepted, and managed to let loose a Fusion Flare that not only nullified the bolt of electricity, but overcame it entirely before he could have been reduced to a pile of ashes by the divine lightning_ ) as Hilbert finally realized what it was about her that he couldn't place.

For the first time since he had Bonded with Reshiram, he couldn't just discern truth from lies with a simple glance. It was like looking at someone as he had before he had become Reshiram's Hero.

Just normal.


	5. just like i was a weapon

**AN** : interlude.

Song: 'Irresistible' by Fall Out Boy.

* * *

 _You ought to keep me concealed just like I was a weapon_  
 _I didn't come for a fight but I will fight till the end_  
 _And this one might be a battle, might not turn out okay_  
 _You know you look so Seattle, but you feel so LA_

./.

His legs shook slightly as he made his way towards the room N was supposed to be in, still felt weak from climbing all those damn stairs to reach the League. Which had really been for nothing, if this didn't work out.

He wasn't touching it, directly, but he could feel the stone sitting inside his bag, weighing heavily. The warmth cut through the bag's thick fabric, pulsing intermittently like a heart beating.

The stone, stubbornly doing nothing except expulsing heat, continued to remain so until N gestured Zekrom forwards. When he did that, the heart beat sped up in a crescendo and cracked like an egg hatching.

What was that they said about the egg and the bird? The egg was the world. In order to be born, one had to break the egg – the world.

The stone surged out of his bag. He had a brief moment to thank whatever forces were out there for the small mercy of it not shredding or burning his bag before a supernova exploded in the throne room, filling it with the light and heat of a miniature sun.

Somehow, despite his close proximity to the stone, he didn't go blind or die of heat stroke. Instead, he witnessed through watering – and rapidly drying – eyes as the stone, once small enough to be half the size of his head, glowed and shone and grew until it was a cocoon of white feathers and fur, lined with silver and edged with red flickering flames.

In the midst of the white cocoon – a white so pure it left clouds and untouched snow in shame – Hilbert saw blue eyes snap open.

The cocoon unfurled. The heat in the room somehow grew even further. With a roar that was both terrifying and mellifluous, Reshiram straightened out and shook the world.

At that moment, if he had not accepted, maybe things could have gone differently. Every now and then that thought haunted his restless sleep.

But once that link connecting his very spirit to the dragon of truth had been forged, sacralised fire melting his soul with ones belonging to those that had come before pouring it all back into the limiting physical vessel that was his mortal body, his world had never been the same. When N had been defeated, Zekrom felled by the holy flames that overcame the sacred lightning, and Hilbert stood tall with veins filled with the burning fire, Ghetsis had stormed into the throne room.

And the older man had lost all of his eloquence under Hilbert and Reshiram's glare. He had spilled all the truth, no longer coating his words with honeyed lies. The truth he spat out was cruel, shredding N, and Hilbert had known that somehow, it was his presence forcing this truth to come out into the light.

His presence forced the truth out of the mouths of people, as he learned when he was having his Pokémon healed, and one nurse told her superior exactly what she thought of her in words that should never have been spoken out loud in polite society.

He watched, slowly realizing what was going on, as the superior began shouting back, and the Pokémon Center was drawn into a fight that belonged in the rowdiest of bars.

The seventh ball holding Reshiram – but was technology truly restraining such a powerful force, or was the dragon acquiescing for it to hold a small part of itself – was stuffed deeply into his bag, and he fled.

 _Can you handle the truth?_

Sometimes, the truth was too cruel. Sometimes, it hurt.

It was horrible, for a while. He shut himself in his room for a long time, unwilling to meet with anyone. He saw lies, heard them and knew when the truth was violated, and it sickened him.

Eventually, the hot fire in his veins stopped roaring like flames, and became more like glowing embers. His presence stopped dragging the truth out of people's minds and mouths. He believed himself returning to normal. He met up with his friends, deciding to take the first step on the path to recovery.

Until he lost his temper at Cheren and Bianca over the smallest thing. He didn't even remember what it was that made him lose his temper – uncharacteristic of him, to get so angry at a trivial argument – but the roaring flames returned into his veins, and before he knew it, there was the blue fires of Reshiram burning in front of him. It was only by sheer luck that Bianca had her Chandelure out, and the flames – blue and hot and harsh – had been mitigated by the ghost's ability to redirect and reuse flames, even mystical ones, harmlessly.

He left them as fast as he could. He ignored all their calls. He avoided going to places where they would look for him, and kept on the move.

In the end, Alder was the one that stumbled upon him. Maybe only a wandering soul, seeking to escape anything that could and would tie one down could have tracked him down in that state.

"I nearly killed them," he rasped out in confession. He wanted to say that he didn't mean it, but in that moment, when the fury had overtaken him, he really had. It hadn't been worth it, it really hadn't, but he had.

'Overreacting' was not a strong enough word to use.

He couldn't lie about it – he physically couldn't lie now. He never was a good liar, but now, it was impossible. And he couldn't confront the truth of his actions.

So he ran.

"Perhaps you just need something to direct your anger at," Alder suggested. "You saved us all. Let us save you, Hilbert."

Where were they when he was about to make that choice? Where were they when he had to be the one to step up to fight a corruption rooted in Unova?

He wanted to be angry, but a larger part of him was relieved that someone wasn't turning him away.

"Alright," he croaked out.

The next day, he and his team – six, not seven, no white-feathered dragon of truth and terrible blue eyes fighting for him – took on the Elite Four again. This time, at the end of it, they faced Alder, and won.

It helped. The exhilarating battles to the mind-numbing bureaucratic work of reading through tiny text of lawyerese provided enough to distract him and keep his mind busy, exploring both extremes of level of interest. It gave him a place to stay, away from the quiet town he had outgrown somewhere down the line, away from the people he could but didn't want to hurt.

But he still knew when there were lies told, and each one he heard made his veins run with something a little hotter than plain mortal lifeblood.


	6. turn me around

**AN** : This story was supposed to be the collection of under 1k+ word-chapters but the AU tyrant couple won't let that happen.

Song: 'The Sweet Escape' by Gwen Stefani.

* * *

 _You held me down, I'm at my lowest boiling point_  
 _Come help me out, I need to get me out of this joint_  
 _Come on let's bounce, counting on you to turn me around_  
 _Instead of clowning around, let's look for some common ground_

./.

After scarfing down her slice of cold pizza, Dawn shuffled upstairs. By the time Hilbert finished his own food and put the dishes away, she came down in new clothes, hair damp and loosely curling around her clean face. She looked cleaner, _smelt_ cleaner, and overall much better than she had before.

And she was wearing a bra now. Good. Now he could stare at her without being called a pervert or a creep.

While he tried to figure out how to approach her without _sounding_ like a creep as well – _oh hi, I couldn't help but notice that, you know, I can't tell whether you're telling the truth or not? What? No, I'm not a mind reader, I can just know when someone is truthful. Except I can't do that with you. Do you have any idea why that might be? Oh please don't call the police I swear I'm not mental_ – she piled up the pizza boxes, and picked them up. Balancing the stack of old, grease-stained pizza boxes somehow, she began staggering towards the door. Empty most may have been, but there were a lot, and she was – as Bianca would have called it – petite.

She ended up dropping one when it slid off the top. Without thinking about it – because his mother had raised a polite boy – Hilbert picked it up for her. He didn't put it back on top of the leaning tower of pizza boxes.

His silence and inaction told her all Dawn needed to know. "Thank you," she said.

He trailed after her out the side door and dumped them into a plastic container meant for recycling. It wasn't too early – nine thirty in the morning – and there were a few people making their way to the direction of the beaches, intent on enjoying the bright, sunny summer day doing stereotypical stuff like sun-tanning next to a big salty pool of water.

The passersby paid them no attention, and Dawn, after eyeing them warily like they could potentially turn into monsters and attack her, went back into the villa. Once inside, she began opening all the windows in the living room, letting fresh air rush in, taking the stale scent out.

The next two hours, she spent cleaning. She dusted, vacuumed, and even scrubbed everything in the kitchen. Hilbert, not really having anything better to do and still trying to figure out how to ask her without sounding weird – he envied N and his ability to just come out and drop bombastic stuff like 'I can understand Pokémon' and 'I am the king of Plasma' without thinking too much about it – helped her, especially when she couldn't reach some places due to her shorter height.

Besides, he'd have been a dick to just let her clean the villa alone when both of them were staying here.

They cleaned the kitchen, the living room, the laundry room, the linen closet, the pantry and the fridge. The last two didn't have much food left in them. If they didn't want to starve – or resort to rebuilding the leaning tower of pizza boxes – they'd have to eventually go grocery shopping.

Later. Procrastination was a fine art, and one he was pretty adept at practicing. In the meantime he observed her. She wasn't the best cleaner, like she wasn't used to cleaning a house and only did so because she had to. She didn't speak to him much – just the occasional words asking for help, or for supplies – but even in those brief words he couldn't discern truth and lies. She had bags under her eyes like she hadn't slept properly for a while.

And he supposed that she was pretty, in the delicate, slim way. But nothing in her physical appearance suggested something that could hide her from the eye of the Avatar Bonded with Reshiram.

There was a large room that led to a small – and by small he meant the size of two badminton courts – arena clearly meant for Pokémon battles. Dawn avoided that room after a brief glance, and he followed her example. It looked unused. Expensive, with force fields and little side benches, but unused.

When the downstairs of the villa was clean enough to look like a model room out of a home decoration magazine, Dawn pulled out one of the chairs around the dining room table and plopped herself right into it, letting her chin rest on the expensive wood. Her breath fogged up the glossy top slightly. Hilbert, still stuck on the first of the questions he was forming, pulled one out opposite of hers and sat in it.

"So what brings you here?" Dawn asked sleepily, breaking the silence first.

He hadn't expected that. He thought he would have to be the one to approach her first.

"Well," he said, trying to decide which pieces of the truth to tell her. He couldn't outright lie, but he could always tell half-truths, or not answer at all. That he didn't have to go around spilling his entire life story to strangers who asked innocent questions was a blessing. "I'm on vacation. My coworkers insisted that I take one."

Dawn turned her head, and looked at him in bemusement. "You've been at your job for what, three months?" she asked, before her lips quirked up in a small, cheeky smile. "How bad do you have to be at your job that they try to get you away?"

Surprised at the joke, Hilbert laughed. "In my defense, I was pretty good at it – how do you know how long I've been working?"

His roommate shrugged, and the smile disappeared, but the mirth wasn't dead in her eyes or her voice yet. "You're the Unova Champion," she said casually, like she was commenting on the weather or the colour of the curtains. "Pretty noticeable job."

'Pretty noticeable' was an understatement. The news had flipped, first over him being Reshiram's Chosen Hero, then about him becoming Champion, and then about him having the League release a statement that Reshiram was not on his main party and would not be used in Champion battles. He hadn't been one for much social media use before, but after becoming Champion, he had deleted all of his contacts online and stayed away from the news and internet because he was sick of seeing his own face everywhere.

Hilbert stared at the girl in front of him, who had gone back to resting the side of her head against the cool, flat surface of the polished mahogany tabletop, eyes lazily tracing the varnished wood grains. She looked young, due to her small frame, but she also looked like she had years more than her appearance suggested. She was apparently friends with Princess Caitlin, enough for the rich girl to let her stay at her villa long enough to acquire a tower of pizza boxes and some serious funky air. She had been acting like a withdrawn NEET before his intrusion, and silently cleaned up the mess. He couldn't read her like he could other people.

And she had known he was Champion. And not made a big deal of it.

Mystery girl. But not in the bad way.

He sank back into his seat, not realizing he had tensed up until the strain dissolved away. Roomie was going to be alright.


	7. we're fine all by ourselves

**AN:** I swear things will eventually get more exciting just bear with me for a few more chapters. In the mean time guess the real titles of the movies.

Song: 'Wild Things' by Alessia Cara

* * *

 _So gather all the rebels now, we'll rabble-rouse and sing aloud_  
 _We don't care what they say, no way, no way_  
 _And we will leave the empty chairs to those who say we can't sit there_  
 _We're fine all by ourselves_

./.

Comfortable.

Hilbert didn't ask for much in terms of comfort. He was used to growing up in a small house, attending in a small school, living in a small town. He dreamed big, sure, of being Champion like every other trainer wannabe, of being a somebody in this big world, but for being comfortable?

He hadn't really needed much. On the road the camping sometimes brought difficulties, and the Pokémon Centers were never five-star hotel material, but he hadn't suffered or felt that they were too much for him to handle.

He hadn't really needed much. Or so he had thought, until Reshiram had chosen him and poured some special holy fire thing into his veins and made him into something more.

From that point, a lot of the things he had taken for granted had suddenly become so heartbreakingly lost to him. The simple interactions with people, to just smile at strangers across the street and receive one back without any consequences. The familiarity of home. The ability to relax and just _do_ things without thinking about repercussions. The sense of being normal and average, one of the millions.

Now he was one _in_ a million, maybe a billion. Now home was a dream that he couldn't find, except with his Pokémon, and 'people' was something to be avoided as much as possible if he wanted to stop himself from sliding into the abyss he felt like he was going to fall into if he kept staring at the nature of humanity visible to him.

And the worst part was that he couldn't give it up.

No, that wasn't the truth. He _wouldn't_ , even if it meant that he got stressed out and couldn't sleep very well and lost himself in the work.

Comfortable was a sensation Hilbert hadn't felt for a long time – until in Caitlin's villa, like a small bubble of a shelter in a rough stormy sea, it came upon him without notice in the form of a short young woman with dark blue hair when he least expected it.

"There wasn't much to eat in the kitchen," Dawn said solemnly, two large dishes holding hot food in her hands. "And before we resort to cannibalism, I'd just like to say that I probably won't be very tasty. Sinnohans are cold and tough to chew because of the whole iron-blooded, ice-boned people of the north thing."

Hilbert laughed at the reference to his favourite television series. Yeah, she was comfortable. "You don't look too tough."

Dawn bared her teeth in a smile. "Famous last words," she tossed right back.

She meant it, he could feel it – by gut, not by fire – but it was still an adorable sight to him, a short young girl with dark bags under her eyes telling him she was tough. It was nice to judge by appearance again. He had to hold himself back from reaching out and ruffling her hair.

Instead, he grabbed one of the offered dishes, which looked like the cut up and pan-fried remains of the last limp vegetables that had been in the fridge. In between the oily vegetable chunks he could make out small sausage slices.

"It might be poisoned," Dawn said, handing him a fork. He decided to trust her and ate it anyways.

It wasn't poisoned. It also wasn't the best food he had eaten, either. That prize had to – and he did apologize to his mom, he really, truly, honest to Reshiram's white feathers did – go to the Striaton Triplets and the meals they served at their gym-slash-diner. This was just average, so-so. Nothing special, or extraordinary about it. Simple like food eaten on the road.

He ate it all. And then, he offered to do (read: forcibly did) the dishes because he felt generous and also slightly guilty for letting her cook for him. She only left the kitchen when he accidentally knocked a picture frame off the wall in his attempt to hold the dishes high above her head where she couldn't reach due to her inferior height.

The loud sound made both of them flinch, with Hilbert nearly dropping the dirty dishes on Dawn's head and Dawn reaching to encircle her hips with her arms like she was hugging herself.

"I'm not staying in the kitchen around you," she announced, and waltzed off to let him get started.

It appeared she had found something to do, though. "Want to watch a movie?" she called while he dried the cutlery, which surprisingly wasn't silverware. Guess Caitlin didn't want her good silver in a place that she might have to lend to hooligans. Or druggie champions and hobo girls.

He was really going to have to ask about Dawn to Caitlin when he got back, if he didn't figure out what was up with her by then.

"Sure!" he called, and then, remembering all the times that he and Cheren had suffered when Bianca had been allowed to movie, made sure to give a hasty addendum to the answer. "No romance!"

"What movie _doesn't_ have romance nowadays?!" That exasperation was the strongest emotion he had heard out of her yet. He wondered, while putting the forks into the right places in a manner that hopefully wouldn't offend Caitlin, if he would see a stronger expression of emotion from her in the future.

And she had a point, he supposed. "As the main genre!"

"Can do!"

When he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and got to the parlor, Dawn had two stacks of DVDs in front of her.

"Choose from here," she said, waving towards the smaller pile.

The first choice made him frown. "How is the _Olympic_ _not_ a romance film?" That shipwreck movie was like _the_ flagship movie for all romance movies. It had forbidden love, a rival, family problems and unnecessary amounts of drama all backed with soppy award-winning background music.

Dawn reached out and took it out of the possible options, but had to add some words while doing so. "It's so romantic it's surpassed romance and can no longer be considered of the genre. Duh."

That made no sense. He guessed that it was her idea of a joke, to throw it in there after he had explicitly asked her not to.

She left him alone with the pile of preselected movies, claiming that she had seen popcorn somewhere, and what was a movie without snacks?

"They're not all romance movies, are they?" Hilbert asked, half-kidding, but she only gave a cheeky smile before leaving for the kitchens.

The next movie – the _Viridian Mile_ – made him relax slightly.

But no movies that were designed to pull at heartstrings. He wanted to laugh. Feel light.

"I like this one," he said when he saw _Three Morons_. The _Tyrant_ was a close second, but that one hit a little too close to home, and his memories of a boy king with ideals strong enough to move a god.

Dawn handed him the large bowl of hot, steaming popcorn. The smell of melted butter made his mouth water, despite his stomach being full.

"Done," she said, and popped the DVD into the player. He settled himself on one end of the sofa – it looked and felt good, and he understood why Dawn had made a nest here prior to his coming – and she on the other, the bowl sitting between them.

They finished the popcorn before even one-third of the movie was done. They laughed loudly, made snide comments in the lovey-dovey parts, and nodded along with wide smiles to cheery tunes and flash mobs dancing.

He excused himself to get a drink in a scene where a character, unable to bear the stress anymore, committed suicide, but other than that, the two hours couldn't be described as anything more than 'comfortable'.

Near the end, he no longer heard anything from Dawn's end of the couch. He didn't realize it, though, until the credits were rolling and his eyes were blurring with sleep. Only then did he look and find her asleep, neck crooked in an uncomfortable angle that would have her hurting in the morning.

Hilbert reached out and adjusted it for her, but that was about all he had. Too tired to go up the stairs to his room, he just slid down onto the floor and kicked his legs out on the floor. The carpet was nice and thick, and he'd definitely slept in worse conditions before.

Besides, this wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

That was his last thought before he fell asleep.


	8. keep all of your secrets

**AN:** guest starring Frejya the Lopunny

Song: 'Don't Worry' by Madcon

* * *

 _I'll take you to the future_  
 _forget about the past_  
 _You can keep all of your secrets_  
 _I swear that I won't ask_

 _./._

His mouth tasted sour and dry. His neck hurt. And someone was ringing the doorbell.

Hilbert frowned, and moved his now-awake consciousness to figure out what was going on. He was curled up, slightly cold, his neck hurt and there was someone at the door ringing the doorbell.

He opened his eyes, and found himself lying on the sofa instead of the floor where he blacked out. There was a fuzzy brown blanket tucked around him, and a pillow identical to the ones in his room shoved underneath his head. The odd angle that it forced his head and neck into might have had something to do with the ache running down his upper spine and left shoulder.

The sound of soft footsteps headed towards the door. If he listened, he could hear a young man's voice speaking – but no one else's.

Maybe Dawn was giving whoever it was at the door the silent treatment. He focused some more, and caught the last of the words.

"Thank you," said the faint, unfamiliar voice. "Have a nice, er, meal."

The door slammed shut, and the footsteps resumed, growing louder as they headed towards the kitchen. Hilbert pulled his upper body up and sat properly, and his new height let him see just who had answered the door.

His first thought was, 'That's not Dawn'.

His second thought wasn't so much a thought as it was an instinct to reach for his belt. More specifically his Poké balls, because casually walking into the kitchen was a bipedal Pokémon he wasn't familiar with, carrying two large paper bags in its furry arms.

Hilbert frowned when he realized that his Pokémon weren't on him. They were upstairs, forgotten. Guilt squirmed in him, chiding him – in a voice rather similar to N's – for being so irresponsible.

The unknown Pokémon glared right back at him. It didn't look particularly threatening, and judging by its slim shape Hilbert guessed that its main strength in battle would be speed.

But before he could see if his hypothesis was right or not, Dawn shuffled out of the kitchen. "Oh, you're up," she said. At her presence and familiar manner to him, the Pokémon calmed down immediately and handed Dawn the paper bags before turning to face him again, letting Hilbert get a closer look at it.

The brown and tan Pokémon – slightly humanoid, but with very long ears and fuzzy fur – eyed him coolly with pink eyes, like it was assessing his worth and value. It looked like the kind of Pokémon that the richer ladies would like to have, what with it looking like a pretty pet, except this 'pretty pet' had scars all over its large ears and body, and a 'don't mess with me' kind of air in the way it carried itself.

He took back his former assessment of it as 'not particularly threatening'. This Pokémon had seen some serious battles. And was strong enough to have survived them.

"Thanks, Lopunny," Dawn said quietly, and held up a pink Poké ball. A Heal ball. Hilbert thought it both suited and clashed with the Pokémon. "Return."

The Lopunny nodded, and then dissolved into energy when the laser hit it. Dawn clipped the ball to the edge of her shirt, since she wasn't wearing a belt and her shorts had no pockets.

So she was a trainer. He remembered her reaction yesterday. She hadn't been hugging herself – she had been reaching for Poké balls, instinctively.

A trainer with Pokémon who obviously wasn't a pet, somehow related to Caitlin, spending her days hidden away in Undella.

And what had she been doing?

He thought of the initially vacant look in her eyes, the former odor of the house, the pile of empty pizza boxes.

 _Self-exile._

Dawn set down the bags and opening them up. The hot, spice-filled smell of Hoennian food filled the air, assaulting his nostrils with their vivid, bold flavour.

"I forgot to ask," she said, beginning to unload the brown paper bag of the takeout containers. "You don't mind spicy food, do you?"

She smiled like she was enjoying the thought of him suffering with a burnt tongue, but for the first time Hilbert thought that her expression didn't look just tired – it looked forced.

The nosy part of him almost wanted to dig into the secret.

"I don't mind it."

Dawn nodded, and began setting the food. The plastic and Styrofoam looked odd on the table that screamed 'expensive', but the smell was enough to make his mouth water.

"I like Hoennian cuisine," she said while shovelling fluffy grains of rice onto her plate with a large spoon. "Always tastes exotic and warm. And it has a lot of vegetables."

Hilbert copied her movements, grabbing whatever since he couldn't identify most of them. The food that he moved into his mouth was certainly flavorful.

The heat began spreading from his mouth to down his spine, and sweat started forming, but the burn wasn't what was on his mind.

He had meant to ask, he really had. Being direct had always been his thing, since he was a terrible liar without a single subtle bone in his body (or so Cheren had always said).

And after accepting Reshiram, he could have known about anyone's hidden truths simply by dragging it out of them, regardless of whether the truth was something that should come out into public or not. He had the power to do so. All he had to do was 'turn up the heat'.

But at the last split second he changed his mind. He couldn't do that to Dawn. Not just because his 'Truth Powers' didn't seem to work on her, but when given the chance, he wanted to choose _not_ to seek what would be a painful truth.

 _(N's heartbroken look, the tears that wouldn't fall out of those shattered eyes. Ghetsis, no longer the smooth, composed viper dripping sweet poison into a puppet king's ears, stabbing at N with the dagger his hidden truth had become –_

 _And Hilbert, standing there with the terribly beautiful white dragon of truth at his back, fire burning_ at _him and_ through _him, saying nothing, doing nothing, and yet somehow responsible for a man being destroyed right in front of his own eyes._

 ** _Can you handle the Truth?_**

 _He had answered Reshiram's question so confidently, and yet already he was doubting himself.)_

He opened his eyes. Dawn was digging into the sweet and sour Tamato sauce, fishing for chunks of cooked Belue berries with her fork. A piece of flat bread was in her hands, waiting to be eaten along with the cooked vegetable.

Hilbert couldn't see anything about her, know anything about her through the fire in him. He only knew from what he observed and heard.

He didn't know. He didn't have to know – it was a vacation not just for his body but also his mind, to be able to interact with someone so freely.

And maybe that was enough, for her to be a sanctuary in the unknown, because ignorance was sometimes bliss.


	9. a scream inside that we all try to hide

**AN:** battle next chapter but in the meantime enjoy picking up dropped hints/foreshadowing.

Song: 'Bird Set Free' by Sia

* * *

 _But there's a scream inside that we all try to hide  
We hold on so tight, we cannot deny  
Eats us alive, oh it eats us alive  
Yes, there's a scream inside that we all try to hide_

 _./._

Undella Bay was _the_ ideal vacation spot, if he thought about it. A breathtakingly beautiful view of a gorgeous beach and warm waters, with a (rich) tourist-friendly town right next to it.

Or something like that.

People spent time outside, enjoying the privilege of being in the warm town of rippling waves, where the past's ethereal ghosts were invited to haunt the modern twists brought by the present. This was an enchanted place, where the sea spoke whispers of riches and stories of legendary kings buried in the ocean's abyssal depths.

He should have been out there, having fun on the beach. He liked swimming fine, and his Pokémon would have liked it as well. Simisear, maybe, would have liked it a little less than the others, but still, it would have been fun. He could have enjoyed the privacy offered by the areas that were picky in who they let in (that were accessible both because of Caitlin and of his newfound status), picked battles with the richer elites of Unova and crushed them easily while giving out friendly smiles. He could even catch some new Pokémon in the area, or at least put the Pokédex to good use and see what was local.

Hilbert did no such thing. He spent three days locked up in the villa, next to Dawn.

They called for delivery or cooked groceries Dawn ordered online. When the delivery boy came to the door, she sent her Lopunny to pay for and retrieve them instead of going herself. She said it was because Lopunny was better at math than she was.

The money she gave her Pokémon to pay for the bill was Unovan currency, and Dawn later explained that Caitlin had given her a small amount of cash to take care of herself.

'Small' was a relative term, and apparently Dawn was a rich girl despite her initial hobo appearance because when Hilbert saw proof of Caitlin's thoughtfulness, he nearly had a heart attack at the amount that was still left. Like hung out with like, it seemed.

"We were pretty good friends, back when she lived in Sinnoh," Dawn said, even when he didn't ask.

"You still seem like good friends." Otherwise, why would she be here?

She thought for a moment, and smiled slightly like she was recalling a fond memory. "Maybe."

She sometimes pulled out a book from one of the bookshelves and lazily flipped through the pages at a fast pace that left Hilbert curious as to whether she was actually reading, or just going through the motions. The books she seemed to prefer were history books, and here he found them a little too dry for his tastes to copy what she did.

But mostly, they watched television. A lot of it. They sat side-by-side on the sofa and left the television on for hours, like they wanted to have their brains turned into bleached mush. He sat watching her out of the corner of his eyes, and she curled on with a blanket wrapped around her, eyes closed like she was sleeping.

He once tried turning off the television to let her sleep properly – the bags under her eyes were still as dark as ever – and almost immediately, her eyes had snapped open, and she insisted she was 'watching'.

They watched coverage of tournaments, sitcoms, movies, and a lot of documentaries. They watched with almost no discrimination – even the home shopping channel selling things like weed whackers – save for the news. That, Dawn avoided.

One time, out of curiosity, he changed the channel to KBC News while Dawn went to the bathroom. Bianca always said that no girl could resist a Kantonese accent, and he was curious to see what her reaction would be. To the news, not the accent. The latter was just supposed to help make things go smoother.

When she came back, she glanced at the large screen where Champion Gold of Indigo was being criticized and compared to his predecessors and frowned.

That triggered his interest. This wasn't a fake expression she was making. She seemed genuinely irked at how the young man's image was being torn apart by sharp tongues. Her eyes were narrowed, and her mouth set angrily in a stern line.

Her fury, Hilbert noted, was cold and calm like a deadly winter's night.

"Not a fan of Champion Gold?" Hilbert asked, digging slightly. Champion Ethan Gold, if his memory served, was one of the 'child kings' – young prodigy trainers who had done the impossible and risen to the peak of the battling world at astonishingly young ages.

Hilbert had a vague knowledge about the child kings – they were Cheren's role models, the ones he strived to be like – but he knew more about Ethan Gold than the others. Right after N awakened Zekrom from its slumber, Alder considered contacting him and seeking his help, because a few years ago a god in Johto called Ho-Oh had descended out of the skies and blessed young Ethan Gold, forming a special bond between gifted human and celestial bird.

Alder's idea hadn't gone through, because Unova and Johto didn't have good relations at the time, and it was also thought that Ho-Oh wouldn't be able to fight Zekrom properly. Something about divine fights having meaning only if it happened between counterparts.

Not that it mattered in the end – the counterpart to Zekrom had been summoned, and truth had won over ideals.

But Champion Gold didn't seem linked to whatever painful truth she was hiding, and he was curious on what it was that would have brought out such a reaction from her.

"He's okay," she replied blandly, returning to her usual spot and curling up. "Just not a fan of the media."

Hilbert kept watching, but there wasn't another flash of raw emotion from her again throughout the rest of the segment on 'subtly' dissing the Champion called the Golden Boy.

When it finished, Dawn picked up the remote from the middle seat of the sofa and not-so-subtly changed the channel from KBC News to a Unovan crime drama where a team of profilers were focused on tracking down a group of terrorists striking fear into the nation.

She actually watched this time, eyes open and directed at the screen. Hilbert watched with her, enjoying a sense of schadenfreude in watching others suffer with tough issues.


	10. dope, dope, dope, dope

**AN:** battle part one. It's sort of romantic near the end (if you look for it with a microscope equipped with shipping lenses) . . . ?

Song: 'Dope' by BTS, Giratina theme

* * *

 _I reject rejection  
I'm always over the top  
Everyone copies me  
I'm dope, dope, dope, dope_

 _./._

But even on vacation, with a newly found peaceful state of mind and someone interesting to spend it with, Hilbert was a trainer at heart, and the battling itch made itself known.

On the third day, after watching some live coverage of a Water-type tournament held in Humilau – there were plans to open a new gym there, plans _he_ signed off shortly before coming here – Hilbert's mouth decided to spill out the words without consulting his mind. It might have been because he was watching TV for a little too long, and his mind was compromised. Easily possible, since the winner had used Confuse Ray and he had been intently watching, not wanting to miss a bit of the rather intense battle.

"Wanna battle?"

Immediately after he said it, he regretted it. They'd been doing fine, being comfortable (or at least he had, and she had been acting like it as well). What if she closed herself off?

And worse, what if she thought of it as something arrogant, like him wanting to show off? She already knew he was the Champion of Unova.

"Only if you don't mind or anything-" he added hastily, when he was cut off.

"Sure."

His mind blanked at the unexpected answer, in surprise and relief. When he got control of his temporarily stunned senses again, they were in the villa's battle room, facing each other. He must have gone to his room, since he had his Poké balls on his belt. Dawn carried a pillow in her arms, and the few lumps he could distinguish meant that her Poké balls were in there.

Odd way of carrying Pokémon, but honestly, after seeing Alder and his necklace of Poké balls, this was fine. Cute, actually.

"Two versus two?" Dawn suggested, and he nodded. League rules meant that as current Champion of Unova, he couldn't battle with a full party outside of the League-sanctioned building. That way, unofficial battles held outside of the League wouldn't count as a Champion match to decide the next powerful figure in Unova. Laws to prevent Champions from being attacked and mobbed and power being taken by the wrong hands did exist, although when one had Zekrom at his side, those measures became useless.

 _Focus, Hilbert_. This was a battle, and while it wasn't one challenging him for his spot and title, it was still one he should try to be serious in. Every battle deserved serious commitment and thought.

Who to use, though? He knew that Dawn had a Lopunny. Would she use it, or a Pokémon he hadn't seen before?

"Ready?" she called, holding a Great ball in hand. Not Lopunny, who was in the pink Heal ball.

But her choice was still a mystery to him. His guess was that it was unlikely to be a Normal-type, and that was about it.

"Yes," Hilbert said, and grabbed Samurott's Poké ball. His first partner, and arguably his most versatile.

"Go!"

Samurott appeared on the field, brandishing his one sword – the other had broken a short while before he was kicked out to go on vacation, and it hadn't grown back yet. Ever the noble creature, his starter didn't even turn around to scold Hilbert for essentially neglecting him in his ball for a few days like some of his other Pokémon (read: Zebstrika) would have. The knight was here to fight, and that was what mattered.

But in front of the Samurott with the iron will and the sharpened shell blade, the fierce part of water's spirit made strong and given firm form was a ghost, round and carrying a cloak of wispy clouds around itself like a veil. Beneath its wispy cloud was taut purple ballooned into a round shape, and red eyes glinted at him like they were piercing his soul.

The temperature of the air dropped – not because of a physical chill, but from the presence of something that wasn't quite natural, for what order of nature did the undead follow? He recognized the ghost that Dawn had released. Shauntal had one of these – a Drifblim. But the Elite Four's, at least, looked like a hot air balloon. Dawn's just looked monstrous, with the wisp of cloud spilling over its body not enough to fully hide the large, bloated mass of ectoplasm shaped into a sort of physical form, or the vertical lines, almost like stitches, left across its body.

Most Drifblim he'd seen looked derpy. Even Shautal's Drifblim looked derpy. He thought Drifblim were one of those Pokémon that looked much less scary than they could be.

Dawn's, however, appeared every bit as terrifying as the stories about them made Drifblim out to be and then some. Unlike Lopunny, it had no scars from battle – ghosts didn't scar – but the eyes, old and judging, pinned he and Samurott where they stood like they were unworthy.

And it wasn't even just stoic when facing them. The yellow X mark around its mouth creased as it grinned widely, and it lifted one ribbon-like arm to drape over the toothless maw – an attempt that did absolutely nothing to hide its smirk.

Not a Pokémon he expected someone like Dawn to have. Unless she was actually a lot eviller than she was showing him.

Dawn, for her part, looked like she slightly regretted her choice. "Drifblim," she said warningly.

The ghost didn't spin around to face her, red eyes still fixed on its opponent like it couldn't wait for the battle to begin so it could pounce, but it snapped to attention at the sound of her voice and listened.

"This is a casual battle," she said firmly. "I chose you because you're the most versatile one, but don't go overboard."

Drifblim raised one arm casually to respond, but it never broke eye contact. Samurott, to his credit, did the same. He didn't tremble, or flinch. And Hilbert felt his face relax into a smile, feeling something in his heart both leap up in excitement and be satisfied at last – like being so thirsty for a long time, and then suddenly being handed a bottle of cool water.

After doing nothing for a while, his mind missed training – and now in front of him was a powerful foe. This was a worthy opponent, and that meant they had to give it their all.

They didn't need a ref to announce the start. Just simple eye contact was enough.

"Samurott, Water Oath!"

"Drifblim, Shadow Ball!"

Corporeal shadows shaped into a sphere was hurtled threateningly into Samurott's face, only for a shell sword wrapped with spelled water to cut it up into less threatening sizes.

The Water-type didn't stop there. Without needing Hilbert's command, he continued to surge forth, brandishing the shell blade in fast, exact slashes.

"Thunderbolt!"

The swords pierced the ectoplasmic hide, but instead of popping like a balloon, the blade was met with resistance and a slurping sound like it had been plunged into a pool filled with viscous glue, ready to suck whatever touched it into its depth.

In that moment, as the ribbon-like arms curled together and lightning began to crackle and generate below Drifblim's main body, both Hilbert and Samurott went over their options, and made a decision.

"Stay," he breathed, and Samurott didn't even stir, having come to the same conclusion. Instead, still gripping the sword tight, Samurott braced himself to be electrocuted. If they let go and retreated now, they lost the sword. One of the few Pokémon that liked to use tools when fighting, Samurott would be at more of a disadvantage if he was without his blade.

Of course, he was a Champion Pokémon for a reason, and trained for scenarios where he didn't have his sword gripped in his paws, enough to be able to fight well enough on his own in the case where his sword broke or was out of his reach.

But he was a Samurott – proud masters of the sword who in the past taught some of the greatest swordsmen their techniques. If the sword broke, that was understandable, but to abandon the sword was to abandon a part of himself. He would choose braving a Thunderbolt over voluntarily throwing away his sword, even for a moment.

And Hilbert would support his Pokémon's choice.

Fully charged, the Thunderbolt struck. Samurott jerked in pain and barked angrily, but he never let go of the sword. Dawn made an odd face – like one of pain and frustration – when the electricity was conducted through the sword and hit the Drifblim as well.

Shuddering from the strength of its own attack, Drifblim howled in a two-toned voice – that of a young woman's and a man's – and a dark wind began to surge around it in a malevolent cyclone.

Samurott, busy with pulling out its sword, shuddered at the malicious intent imbuing the winds.

"Ice Beam," Hilbert ordered urgently. Ominous Wind had a chance to increase the strength of the user, and any Pokémon that got hit with it didn't fare too well. "How is Drifblim holding onto the sword? I've never seen a Drifblim do something like that."

To be more specific, Shauntal's Drifblim had never done something like that. When it was hit, it was hit and opened a tear in the hide that hurt those near it by exposing them to the ghostly energy swirling inside its vacuous body. He'd never heard of a Drifblim having some kind of quicksand inside it to hold its victims in place.

"Shadow Ball! It's a Bind," Dawn said. "And not working like I thought it would right now, which is a pity."

That made sense. To Bind a foe limited their possible range, activity and choices – but it also meant that the foe was unavoidably close to the body of the binder. It might have worked a lot better in this battle if Samurott abandoned his sword, but that hadn't happened.

Sword still stuck, Samurott opened his mouth and blasted the Drifblim with a devastatingly freezing ray. At this close range, there was no chance to miss.

But Drifblim wasn't playing around.

The Ominous Wind was still stirring like a circling predator closing in, but the Shadow Ball came flying just in time to intercept the ice beam. The explosion – cold from both the ice and the ghostly energy – was chilling to those caught up in it, but both Pokémon ignored it.

"Thunderbolt, again!"

It was still too early for another Ice Beam – attacks not of the same type as the Pokémon using them took a little longer to charge up, and they'd only just used Ice Beam.

The fastest option was a Water-type move for Samurott, but water at this range when a Thunderbolt coming was dangerous. It had to be something stronger and more controlled than Scald or Water Oath.

"Hydro Cannon!"

The tendrils of lightning being generated by the wisps of cloud around the ghost had nearly finished gathering into one focused bolt when the Water-type equivalent of Hyper Beam blasted the Drifblim. Not grounded but floating in the air, it was thrown back, ripped away from its Bind on the sword, and fell to the ground, limp and halfway out of air.

A frustrated scream in the double voice shook the air, and Drifblim began to rise back up, filling itself round once more, but Dawn was faster than its revenge. "No," she said. "Drifblim, rest for now."

The Drifblim was still glaring with blood-red eyes at Samurott when Dawn returned it to its ball.

Hilbert looked at her curiously. Hydro Cannon was an exacting move that required a lot of energy. After one use, a brief recovery period of time was necessary – a cooldown time that could make or break the results of who remained standing if their enemy wasn't down. Why not take advantage of that?

Maybe it wasn't about the status of the battle, but her current state instead. She looked a little pale.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as Samurott recovered and picked up his sword.

"I'm fine," she reassured him as she put the Great ball back in the pillow case. "Drifblim gets a little . . . out of control with her battles sometimes. She won't try to kill you guys in her sleep though."

She didn't sound like she was joking. So that meant the battle was over.

Disappointed, he began to reach for Samurott's Poké ball to return him when she pulled another ball out from the pillow case – this time just a plain Poké ball. "Ready for round two?" she asked.

Hilbert dropped his hand before they could grab Samurott's ball. He lifted it, clenched it into a fist, and then placed it over his mouth to hold back the laugh.

Once he was absolutely sure he wasn't going to burst out into laughter like a madman, he grinned and nodded.

"Thank you," he said. Dawn gave him a questioning look, but Hilbert didn't explain what her presence was doing for him – how she made him feel normal, she made him feel comfortable, and how she was a great battler with powerful Pokémon who clearly loved her.

Hilbert didn't tell her what a tremendous swelling of emotions she gave him, so relieving and uplifting and comforting that he almost felt like an entirely different person.


	11. and for this gift, i feel blessed

**AN:** battle part two, written and brought earlier than expected because 8-0 baby! justice is not yet dead in this world!  
Oh also a guest appearance by Faith the (former) Eevee.

Song: 'Smells Like Team Spirit' by Nirvana, Reshiram & Zekrom theme

* * *

 _I'm worse at what I do best  
And for this gift, I feel blessed  
Our little group has always been  
And always will until the end_

 _./._

Filled with an excitement he hadn't really experienced for a while, he grinned and cracked his knuckles. Samurott raised his head proudly.

"Samurott's my strongest," Hilbert said, feeling confident. "So if Drifblim wasn't your strongest, you better send out your strongest right now."

Dawn said something, but at that moment, a voice rang in his head. A familiar voice, coming out of a door in his mind that he had barricaded and blocked to the best of his abilities because he didn't want to open that door, didn't want to speak to that voice.

 ** _Liar_**.

Whatever expression he had been making – exhilaration at a challenging battle, pride for his Pokémon, just pure joy from the fun he was having – dropped. He had been doing such a good job of shutting out that presence and pretending it wasn't there, but the voice of the white dragon chilled him to his bones and rattled them.

"What?" he choked out, shaken. More surprising than Reshiram speaking was the god of truth considering itself as his strongest Pokémon, even after Hilbert had pretty much turned the cold shoulder towards it and done his best to forget about it.

Did that mean there was no escape? Was this just a temporary break before he would return to his life of being tied to Reshiram and its merciless blue fires forever?

"Can't," Dawn said, a little more loudly than before, and snapped him out of his daze. "She's too big. Glaceon!"

The next Pokémon was a glacial fox, with pale icy fur that glittered like cold diamonds. It shook its body out lightly, and its pointed ears twitched towards Samurott. Like Lopunny from before, its body had scars that marred the otherwise beautiful fur.

Hilbert waited, but Reshiram didn't speak again. Fine. He'd go back to pretending there was only one consciousness in his head and focus on the current battle.

As for his opponent, Hilbert guessed as he called for a Scald. It was definitely an Ice-type, from name and appearance. Boiling water flew towards the Glaceon, but Dawn didn't say anything, and the Glaceon didn't move, taking the Scald head on. Steam hissed angrily, and began to rise like fog or clouds hiding a nature spirit.

Moments later, Glaceon exploded in a multi-coloured supernova of light. The blinding aurora washed over his eyes, and for a split second all he saw was the dazzling light from the explosion.

When the light died out, Samurott was crumpled on the ground, unconscious, and Glaceon was shaking the still-steaming moisture out of its glittering fur.

"That was a Mirror Coat, right?" he asked, returning his fainted starter. The Glaceon didn't even look phased. "You sure that one's not your strongest?"

Glaceon hissed at him like it was offended he would dare to question its strength. Dawn cracked a smile, wistful like she was going over an old joke. "Steelix has size, type and weight backing her up. Glaceon is very close, though."

Hilbert eyed the Ice-type, and then made his decision. Special Attacks were out if a Mirror Coat was always going to be waiting to explode on him like a landmine, but he had a mixed attacker with some diversity and a type advantage. "Simisear! Brick Break!"

With a war screech, the monkey zigzagged towards the Glaceon, both arms raised threateningly.

But before he was halfway there, Dawn grinned. "Attract."

"Back!" Hilbert yelped, but confusing energy in the shape of obnoxiously pink hearts were already flying towards Simisear. The first two hearts missed, but the rest were on target, and Simisear, dazed and suddenly struck with 'love', nearly stumbled and fell flat on his face.

Nearly. Attract was a move Swoobat knew as well, and Hilbert himself liked to use it to disorient foe Pokémon and then poke fun at challengers by making a joke about how they'd been 'swept off their feet'.

It wasn't so fun on the receiving end, but the guys on his team had experience serving as practice dummies for the move.

"Simisear!" he shouted. "Snap out of it!"

Simisear swayed, what little logic and rationale he normally had fighting the overwhelming false emotions implemented in him by his foe.

"Water Pulse," Dawn ordered, not letting them get the chance to straighten out.

Glaceon hummed, and water began to gather, vibrating at a high frequency, into a round ring in front of its face. once the ring had reached peak frequency, Glaceon let it explode towards Simisear.

Simisear wasn't down, despite all that. And the water had temporarily shocked him enough to break through the haze of infatuation, if only by a bit.

Hilbert decided to go for a distance move. Even at the risk of Mirror Coat firing back, it was better to go for a –

"Flamethrower!"

"Ice Beam!"

Unlike the Water Pulse, the Ice Beam was the same type, and was much quicker in being pulled out. A stream of fire collided with the freezing energy in between the two, and a loud explosion filled the room. Shortly after the thundering sound, the burst of mist from the collision followed, fogging up their sight.

"Can you go for a Brick Break?" Hilbert asked.

In battle, he never asked questions. It was the principle of the thing – a powerful being was willing to share its strength with a fragile, weak human in exchange for a strategy to lead them both to victory. The least he could do was show confidence.

Unless it was deliberate, and a part of the strategy – to send a message to each other that opponents couldn't decipher even after hearing it in full.

Simisear dashed forth – and stumbled to a halt as the Attract seemed to return at full force.

Dawn didn't let the brief moment pass. "Water Pulse!"

Glaceon inhaled, and once more a ring of water began to gather when Simisear snapped his head up, eyes clear.

"Flamethrower!"

Simisear was faster in releasing the stream of fire that cut through the half-gathered ring of water.

The Flamethrower hit Glaceon, and Hilbert grinned. Checkmate.

Dawn, however, smiled right back as Glaceon once again erupted into a blazing aurora. He groaned at the second burst of blinding light as he remembered the Mirror Coat. He didn't think Dawn's Glaceon would be able to pull it off that quickly, but his miscalculations had cost him.

When the dazzling light was gone, Simisear was unconscious on the ground, while Glaceon was still standing, albeit in pretty bad shape this time.

Still, the Ice-type yipped happily and charged straight to Dawn once she was sure she had won.

"Good job," Dawn complimented lightly. She lifted her head to make eye contact with Hilbert. "And good battle."

He sighed, and returned Simisear after a 'good job, buddy'. "Yeah," he said, content even if he had lost. "Good battle."

And, it was the Truth. Even if for a moment, it looked like the sweet dreams were over, he still had some more time.

Hilbert headed to the healing machine at the corner of the battle room, and Dawn followed, pillow hugged tightly to her body.

"Do they give ribbons to challengers who beat Champions in Unova?" she asked as they placed the Poké balls into the machine's holding spots.

"Ribbons?" Hilbert asked, pressing the button. The machine whirred to life, and hummed along mechanically as the screen asked for patience while the Pokémon were healed. Healing machines for Pokémon were expensive things - of course Caitlin would have one in her villa, impractical as it was.

"When a trainer is registered into the Pokémon League Hall of Fame in Sinnoh," Dawn explained. "The Pokémon that were on the Champion Team are all given a ribbon to set them aside from . . . non-champion teams, I guess. They keep the ribbon even when they're traded from the trainer, because technically, it's the Pokémon that fought."

"No," Hilbert said slowly. "But that's a really good idea."

He hated to think about his vacation ending - he was procrastinating on _that_ idea like it was summer homework from school - but when he got back, he wanted to run that through with Alder and the Elite Four. It was something that might begin to bridge the gap N had seen and fought to point out. Hilbert may have taken N and his Ideals down, but the Truth didn't allow for such a problem to be ignored either.

Dawn shrugged. "Hoenn came up with the idea first," she said grudgingly, like she was admitting something she didn't really want to. "But personally, I like the Sinnohan ribbon design better. It looks more regal, and majestic."

Hilbert laughed. "Biased, much?"

The blue-haired girl just smiled prettily.


	12. in every lost soul

**AN:** the song for the chapter is actually one of the songs I listened to most when I was writing Kindred Souls. Cover image credit goes to doodleblah on Tumblr (I won a raffle contest so I requested them).

Song: 'Waiting for Love' by Avicii

* * *

 _For every tyrant a tear for the vulnerable  
In every lost soul the bones of a miracle  
For every dreamer a dream we're unstoppable  
With something to believe in_

 _./._

The rest of the day was spent parked on the sofa, but with more talking. He talked about his team, and how he met each one. She talked about her two best friends, who were like brothers to her because she was an only child. One of them wanted to be a Pokémon researcher, and the other was in the Battle Frontier of Sinnoh making a name for himself. He talked about his mom, and how she had raised him on her own with enough love to make up for a missing dad. She talked about her cousin, who was also like a brother to her, but so busy that she rarely got to see him.

He was in the middle of talking about Cheren and Bianca – honestly, they were like siblings to him, but at the same time it was a little weird seeing all the mutual crushes towards each other and being the third wheel sometimes – when Dawn yawned.

"Pardon," she mumbled, and Hilbert remembered that although she'd had bags under her eyes for as long as he could remember, that wasn't supposed to be normal.

"You need sleep," he said.

Dawn tried to wave him off. "No need to worry," she began, but Hilbert wouldn't have it.

"Sleep," he said firmly, putting all the authority of a Champion behind it.

Not that it had much of an effect. She just blinked blearily at him back, but nodded and began to make her way to her room. Hilbert stayed behind a little – to turn the television and lights off, and grab a glass of water – before he made his way upstairs as well. Dawn's bedroom door was already shut, so he went into his own room. He needed to take his own advice, now that he thought about it. The battle had been a nice break from the marathon of watching everything and anything on the channels, but it hadn't been enough to let his eyes and brain recover from the experience of being a couch potato.

So Hilbert didn't appreciate it when, the moment he closed his eyes to fall unconscious, he found himself lucid dreaming.

No, not lucid dreaming. The term implied that he had some control over what he did in the dream. This . . .

This was just being forced to have a meeting with something he didn't want to face within himself.

He should have known, should have seen this coming. Reshiram had been too quiet recently, and with the white dragon of truth finally saying something – even if it was to accuse him of being a liar – and breaking the prolonged silence between them for the first time since his fit, Hilbert should have seen this talk coming.

Maybe he did. He just hadn't wanted to worry about it, not when he could have relaxed and talked and just be normal.

Just be normal, and not alone.

In the space of his mind, a vast world both infinite and severely limited at once, Hilbert crossed his arms and glowered at Reshiram. The dragon of truth was tall and majestic, the same size it had been during their battle against N and Zekrom. It was the only spot of pure white, like how Hilbert was the only spot of color, in this pitch-black world that was the meeting room for his soul and the freeloader.

If it could – that is, if it could bend its dignity enough to match Hilbert – Reshiram would have been crossing its arms and glowering right back at Hilbert. As it was, the dragon only gazed at him with eyes the color of a cool blue.

"What," he ground out. Reshiram's white feather-like fur fluttered faster, though there was no wind here. Its face remained impassive, but Hilbert could tell it was angry, or at the very least frustrated with him. Sometimes Hilbert wondered how he and Reshiram had managed to defeat N and Zekrom. Maybe it was just a fluke that led to their victory over the Ideals. A part of him hoped that N wouldn't point that out, and come back for a rematch.

(Another part of him, however, did. And was more than willing to forfeit the match this time around. Hilbert tried to put that part of himself down, but sometimes it really was a tempting thought to entertain.)

 _I have put up with your silence,_ Reshiram began. _With you shutting me away to a corner of your mind so you could throw yourself into your mortal life. Humans live short periods of time, and to demand their total, unconditional dedication to something is impossible. This I understand._

Hilbert listened. He was going to get chewed out for having 'lied' to Dawn, even though he hadn't really intended on it. Best to just get it over with – the dragon of truth didn't appreciate liars, after all.

 _But_ , Reshiram said, voice getting rougher. _You lie? You erase my presence altogether for yourself? You discount me from one of yours? Have you forgotten, my Avatar, that you are mine as I am yours? You **dare** hide the Truth? And from **her**?!_

He was willing to listen to Reshiram's ranting, because a part of him did recognize that he was at fault, but the last words from the dragon made him pause. "Hold up, what?"

Reshiram huffed. _Ignorant boy_ , the dragon of truth growled. **_This_** _– this is why you should not have shut the Truth out. It has left you sadly lacking, unable to discern the world in proper as you should._

Hilbert ignored Reshiram calling him dumb, because it essentially boiled down to Reshiram having a problem with Dawn. And Reshiram didn't really care all that much about other people. When he nearly burnt Cheren and Bianca with flames that should never come in contact with mortal flesh, Reshiram's reaction had been unimpressed, to say the least. The closest thing to attention Reshiram had shown to another human being had been N, and only to note that Zekrom's Avatar looked thin enough to snap into two.

So why the deal over Dawn being lied to? "What's special about Dawn?"

Even as he asked, he was drawing up details in his head. She was special because she made him feel normal. Because she was a great trainer, strong enough to push even a Champion, young and inexperienced as he was. Because her Pokémon loved her, clearly. Because she made him relax, and just loosen up, and forget about what he had to remember.

She was special . . . because he couldn't discern the Truth from her like he could with everyone else.

Reshiram's mouth curled up in a sneer. _Find out yourself_ , the dragon said darkly, and then disappeared.

Hilbert swore, and meant every last expletive he projected through his face.

Alright. So. Reshiram had some kind of issue with what Hilbert had done. He doubted that Dawn was somehow Reshiram's sworn nemesis. As far as he knew – which was admittedly little, but still more than before this whole Avatar fiasco thing came around – Reshiram had no such nemesis. The closest thing that came to it would be Zekrom, as Reshiram's other half, counterpart, rival, et cetera.

And if it had been his interactions with Dawn that annoyed Reshiram, the dragon would have made its opinions clear to Hilbert much earlier on.

So scratch that.

If it was Dawn being an anti-Truth kind of thing, then again, Reshiram would have reacted earlier on, taking offense at her very presence being near its Avatar. So that couldn't be it either.

But Dawn's influence on him? Maybe that was it – Reshiram did not appreciate her essentially giving Hilbert a chance to lie, even though it technically wasn't a lie.

That sounded more likely, but it didn't explain Reshiram specifically pointing her out. Like she was someone special.

Which she was. Beyond all the stuff her presence helped him with, he meant. Because to ignore Reshiram's power, passively resting inside him as it was? That was something no normal person could do. Ever since he had gotten it, after Reshiram broke the shell and woke up to the age that came after the time of magic and miracles died and put a piece of the past's mythical powers into him, there had been no one he couldn't pull the truth out of.

Hilbert ran a hand through his hair messily. His opinion, and like or dislike of Reshiram didn't matter at this point. The fact that Reshiram had singled Dawn out meant she was important.

It was no longer a time to just enjoy Dawn's mysteriousness. Tomorrow morning, when he woke up, he would mention something – not lie, just not give her the whole Truth – before asking her why that might be. He'd actively try to use his Truth powers, too, instead of passively letting them run around – but not enough to pull the flames out. Not those again, never those again.

This, he knew, might break this tranquil, ethereal thing they had. This might signal the end to the vacation time. This might be him taking a hammer to something he found and grew to love very much with his own two hands.

And Hilbert absolutely hated it, and himself, for having to do just that.


	13. dropped and well concealed in secret

**AN:** added 'mystery' to the genre because it sure as heck isn't romance. reuploading because the site is being weird.

Song: 'The Take Over, the Break's Over' by Fall Out Boy

* * *

 _We do it in the dark_  
 _With smiles on our faces_  
 _We're dropped and well concealed_  
 _In secret places_

 _./._

Hilbert woke up, not feeling all that refreshed. Not refreshed at all, in fact. Sleep, to Reshiram, was apparently something you could only do when sealed up in a rock for centuries waiting for The One to come by, and if the dragon of truth couldn't sleep, then no one could.

Spiteful gods and their spiteful ways. There was always a price to pay, with them.

Trying to wash away the drowsy feeling, Hilbert splashed cold water onto his face, and then left his room. Dawn got up fairly early in the morning – she was always awake by the time he got up – and since it was eight in the morning, he figured she would be downstairs or something.

Except she wasn't. Frowning, Hilbert wandered the entire villa, only to find the building silent and empty of one person. He even knocked and checked in her room, which looked mostly untouched and unoccupied by anyone. There was a large rucksack, meant for people going camping in the deep part of the woods for a while, but the room didn't hold any blue-haired girls, or show other traces of having held one in recent times.

He came back downstairs, starting to worry, when he saw the note left on the coffee table.

 _'Hilbert,_

 _Going for a walk outside. Some business came up. Will be back by late afternoon at latest._

 _Eat something – I made Tamato toast, it's in the oven._

 _Dawn.'_

He sighed in relief at the brief note, and sat on the sofa after snagging some of the food she had left for him. He still needed to talk, but a part of him was just grateful that he could hold off on that moment of confrontation for now.

Cowardly of him? Sure, but who wouldn't be?

Out of habit developed while staying here, Hilbert reached for the remote and turned the television on. What was going on in the world outside of this small vacation bubble?

Not caring much for anything, he stopped at a channel that focused on Pokémon and League-related news and began to eat. For a time in the recent past, he had avoided this channel and the discussion panel that it hosted because it had been flooded with images of his own face, but now, after Reshiram called him ignorant, he probably should try to keep up with the rest of the world. Besides, he figured he could watch it now without feeling some brand of self-hatred.

He was right. He didn't see his face or hear any talk about himself. It was talk from some other region, which wouldn't be too bad to watch.

The toast was good. Tamato berry slices on cheese-covered bread, which was then toasted. Not too shabby, and simple enough to make on his own if he wanted to.

"But enough about the home ground – let's move onto the international field. And the latest news from Sinnoh, which is that there's _still_ no news of Champion Berlitz from the Sinnoh League, or from close acquaintances and family."

"Johanna Berlitz hasn't been seen as much, either, after the announcement of the funeral. She did appear as a guest judge at a contest in Hearthome last week, but made no comments regarding her daughter's whereabouts when asked by reporters present at the event."

"What do you think," one of the three hosts on the screen, a blonde woman in a red dress said. "Is that a mother-daughter duo being irresponsible as a mother and a Champion of a region?"

"Well, I think Johanna's doing what she can to protect her daughter's privacy," said the only man of the trio. "That's what a mother does. It's not irresponsible to look out for your child."

"Yeah, but is that looking out for her? What if she doesn't know where her own daughter is?"

The last woman, a brunette in black, defended the Champion. "You've got to keep in mind – it was a traumatic experience, and she's pretty young. That's a lot of stress. Besides, she did place the Head of the Elite Four in charge before she left, and former Champion Cynthia Prentiss is more than capable of keeping Sinnoh safe."

"But that's not the point," the first woman argued. "Think of the message being sent – all that it takes to get the Champion out of the picture is the death of one Pokémon. If you stretched it a bit, it says that all Champions can be weakened if one of their Pokémon kicks the bucket."

The death of a Pokémon. A Champion's Pokémon.

Hilbert vaguely recalled hearing about this. Something about a Champion – one of the 'child kings' – of a different region losing her starter Pokémon to the reaper that awaited everyone at the end of their lives.

That was a buried memory, though, from a few weeks ago. He heard that news while in the Pokémon Center at the League, getting his team healed after a decent battle. It had been background noise at the time, and he'd still been busy trying to deal with his own skeletons.

In a half-hearted attempt at reparations towards the loss someone he didn't know must have felt, he continued to eat and watch instead of changing the channel.

"It sends a message that the Champion is emotionally weak, and that's something that could be exploited," the woman continued. "Think about it. Anyone who wanted to paralyze the strongest trainer in Sinnoh just has to target someone precious to her. Her rivals could aim to kill her Pokémon in battle and wave it off as an accident while she breaks down. _Even if_!" Her voice raised when the other woman tried to interrupt, bringing up points about how grief could be crippling to even the strongest of people. "Even if she is emotionally stronger than that, the _message_ that's being sent is what matters. Public perception of her will be severely damaged after this, both in her home region and internationally."

Ah, that took him back. Public perception about him had to be shaped well. He was the Hero of Truth, who had defeated the 'wrong' ideals and saved Unova. Never mind that Unova had been built on making ideals a reality – him and Reshiram 'slaying' N and Zekrom had become the newest page in history, and a turning point in the pursuits of Unovans. Truth had won over ideals. The pure white dragon, so beautiful and righteous, had vanquished the monstrous black one allied with twisted, fanatical dreams.

And then he became Champion, the latest in the line of 'child kings', and a workaholic. To outsiders, those that didn't know what the actual story was, didn't know _him_ , Hilbert was a very dedicated trainer who was deeply engrossed in battling. Whimsy and forgivable traits of a new Champion strong enough to defend Unova from any threat, they played it as.

The brunette finally got a chance to speak. "She's young," she repeated, her voice calmer than her cohost's. "And, she clearly loves her Pokémon. Those shouldn't be viewed as weaknesses."

"I agree that they shouldn't be, but that doesn't change the fact that they are."

The man cleared his throat. "There's also a possibility that she's just gone into the wild to train," he suggested. "It's not uncommon for talented trainers to go into intense training sessions to make up for a missing member in scenarios like this. Given that she's a Champion, it would make sense that she needs more time to train a Pokémon up to the team's standards."

"Yes, but it's the modern times. Does she _need_ to be so off-grid do that? Didn't her Lucario set some kind of a new record or something?"

The man must have been a fan or something, because his answer was immediate. "It won the International Lucario Cup for the third time in a row."

"Right, that. _That's_ not strong enough to join her main team?"

A picture popped up under the three people discussing, of a blue and black bipedal Pokémon and a young woman with dark blue hair holding three trophies in front of themselves.

Hilbert dropped his second piece of toast on the plate in his lap.

The proudly smiling woman was a very familiar face, and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle that he had fell together into a picture that horrified him.

Especially when he heard the next words.

"It was her starter that died – those are some pretty big shoes for any Pokémon to have to fill."

There was some more discussion on perception versus actual strength with a side of emotions and mental health thrown in before they moved on, but Hilbert was no longer listening.


	14. my life in a stranger's face

**AN:** guess who's so happy about newly-elected President Moon Jae-In she's updating back to back?

Song: 'Alive' by Sia

* * *

 _I found solace in the strangest place_  
 _Way in the back of my mind_  
 _I saw my life in a stranger's face_  
 _And it was mine_

 _./._

Hilbert left the television on, and went to grab his Pokédex. While the screen was small, and the application for internet use slow, it was still better than using his Xtransceiver, which let people know when he was on it. If there were calls and messages waiting to be seen by him, well, all the more reason to avoid picking it up.

With surprisingly calm and steady hands that didn't reflect his current mental state, Hilbert keyed in 'Dawn Berlitz', and after a few moments was swamped with articles. Ignoring the latest ones about how she was missing from the public eye, he went directly to Bulbapedia to read the article detailing her life - and, as befitting a Champion, it was lengthy.

Basic biographical information told him that she was one year older than he was, born in Sinnoh, and had at least two notable family members with their own pages – as well as a link to the article on her family, apparently a famous one. He skipped over those – they weren't important right now. He wanted to know the part about Dawn he hadn't seen for himself during his vacation.

Born as an only child and raised by a famous mother, she began her journey across Sinnoh at thirteen, and was shown to be a prodigy at battling, as demonstrated by her many accomplishments and victories before she became the Champion of Sinnoh at the young age of sixteen, defeating the previous Champion, Cynthia Prentiss for the title in a full six-on-six battle at the Sinnoh League, as was traditional in most leagues.

Despite her youth, she took on responsibilities that came with the title as well as balancing her education and life with the duties. She was an advocate for treating mental illness in trainers and improving health care provided by the League, for both Pokémon and trainers. She also participated in Pokémon contests in her spare time, as well as in competitions hosted by the private sector of the battling world to help bridge the gap between the private and public leagues. She attended many charity events as a guest and a speaker to raise money for whatever cause it was dedicated to. She had no scandals associated with her name, and few controversies – the few that existed were mostly public concerns about her age and her family being too strong in Sinnoh or something.

Due to a Steel and Ice-type preference in Pokémon, as well as her family background and all her achievements and cool, mature attitude in public at such a young age, she was given the epitaph of the 'North Queen'.

Her main team, last seen, was an Empoleon, a Drifblim, a Lopunny, a Glaceon, a Steelix, and an Abomasnow, and she was known to have a Lucario - the Lucario he heard of before, Hilbert presumed - a Pachirisu, and a Froslass on the side.

The Empoleon, however, was grayed out. Not remembering what an Empoleon looked like, he searched that up in the Pokédex, and was met with the image of a kingly Water and Steel-type, with a cool and haughty gaze that looked down at Hilbert, even through a picture.

He hesitated, and then typed in something else. 'Empoleon Champion Berlitz'. The surname was unfamiliar to him, and he nearly misspelt it.

But the images and articles that came up were unmistakeable, with a blue-haired woman and an Empoleon. Both still looked haughty and royal, but their patrician appearances were otherwise marred by genuine, pure emotion – pride and joy, in themselves and each other, right as they were seizing victory in battle together.

His first reaction was to reach for the place where his belt usually was, grasping for his Samurott's ball. It wasn't there, of course – he really had to stop leaving them away from him – but he reached anyways, seeking some comfort.

A Water-type, proud and strong and unyielding in his belief. What had Dawn thought when he sent out his starter?

. . . What if Dawn thought he knew about who she was?

Hilbert felt his heart dropped. What if she thought he was mocking her, or inconsiderately flaunting his starter in front of her? Had she been offended?

No, no, she didn't think that. She hadn't been offended. And if she'd been trying to hide it, he would have known -

No, he wouldn't have because _his truth-sensing powers didn't work on her._

Hilbert groaned. Okay, so Dawn could have been seriously offended. She probably ( _hopefully_ , Hilbert prayed to every god, even Reshiram, even if none of them answered) knew he didn't know who she was. That theory sounded legit to him. She knew who he was, and that he didn't know her.

But in his ignorance, he could have still hurt her.

Hilbert groaned again. _Nice_ , he thought bitterly. All this time he'd been enjoying how she was making him feel normal and lightened of every stressful thing and in secret she had been suffering. He still remembered the state the house – and she – had been in when he first came. At least then, she had been open about her pain. When he came, she was forced to hide it all inside, where it could have festered for all he knew.

And _he didn't know_. That whole block on his powers was what he was supposed to ask (confront) her on. And all of a sudden he had learned something that was just - just –

Hilbert sighed.

He had never lost someone he loved and held close to his heart. His dad had never been in the picture. He had some friends, but only Cheren and Bianca were close. He had never lost any of his Pokémon.

What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry for your loss? I know what you feel? The first sounded insincere and cliché, and the second was a lie. But could he not say anything?

Absolutely not.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Hilbert felt like a kid, suddenly shoved into the world of adults that was far beyond what he could fix.

It was always like that with him, wasn't it? It was never him being the one to fix things.

 _(N's heartbroken eyes. Bianca's terrified scream. Cheren's pale face._

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.)_

What did he do?

Like an answer from above, he heard the door open. "Dawn?" he called, and then winced when his voice shook. Get it together, Hilbert, you're a Champion. You're the Hero of Truth.

 _(You're nothing without that)_

All his chaotic internal thoughts stilled when there was no answer. "Dawn?" he asked again, voice steadier this time, but this time warier. There was no way she hadn't heard him.

A flicker of dark and a white blur slammed into him, knocking him onto the ground and leaving him staring up at the ceiling, slightly dazed, before he knew it.

"You," said a low voice, slightly muffled and filled with hatred. He knew that voice, gravelly and usually silent, speaking only the bare minimum to him when necessary. He had only heard him - them - speak a handful of times, but each time the experience had been unforgettable.

The eyes - the only part of the face left uncovered - glared at him hatefully. Hilbert glared right back at the ninja assassin servant of Ghetsis.

"Shadow Triad," he said bitingly.


	15. how it feels when you're bent

**AN:** sorry I'm late FE Heroes is taking up all my time.

Song: 'Not Gonna Die' by Skillet

* * *

 _This is how it feels when you're bent and broken_  
 _This is how it feels when your dignity's stolen_  
 _When everything you love is leaving_  
 _You hold on to what you believe in_

 _./._

Not good, not good, not good at all.

The Shadow Triad – or more specifically, _a_ Shadow, since there seemed to be only one of them with him right now – were members of Team Plasma. Though they had claimed they served N back when he was still King of Team Plasma, Hilbert got the feeling they were more loyal to Ghetsis than anything else.

He bit back the angry words and reigned in his temper. He was at a disadvantage here. He didn't have his Pokémon on him, and he could be outnumbered.

"What do you want?"

Alright, so he could have said that better.

 _That_ truth was made abundantly clear to him when a harsh blow to his gut left him choking.

"Shut up," the Shadow hissed, taking back his fist from where it had abruptly been lodged into Hilbert's stomach. "Shut up, _Hero_. Or else."

Well, his truth-telling powers were still working, he told himself. The Shadow meant every last bit of that ominous if ambiguous threat.

What really got him on edge, though, was how angry and vengeful the Shadow in front of him seemed. He didn't know them very well, true, but he'd also never seen them so emotional. Heck, the last time he saw one, the Shadow had been calmly wondering about emotions, like it was a concept he didn't fully understand.

For them to be this angry, when before they were the picture of stoic, controlled emotion?

That rang every alarm bell in his head. Whatever they wanted from him, it couldn't be good, and he had to get out of danger and rid of the threat quickly.

With a flicker of movement too fast for his eyes to catch, another Shadow did the warp thing and popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, next to his sibling. "The house is clear," he said flatly.

Truth.

The odds of two against one became worse when the last member of the Triad appeared. He stayed silent, only holding out a belt with six Poké balls on it.

Hilbert nearly swore out loud at that. For all the fanfare he got, being a young, accomplished trainer who reached the apex of his world at his age, he was 'normal' – as in, he was no Drayden, wrestling dragons even at an old age to keep in buff shape like some kind of superhero. Take away his team from him, and the threat he offered was reduced significantly.

Well, no, that wasn't the _complete_ truth. He still had one more trump card up his sleeve. He just didn't like using – or acknowledging – that part of him as much as he did his team.

But he had no qualms about holding that part down and hidden deep within himself when it was his life, and the lives of his team on the line.

Theirs, and also Dawn's. if she returned while the Shadow Triad were still here . . .

Gritting his teeth, Hilbert reached inside him, opened the door that he normally barricaded shut, and then seized upon the essence of Reshiram.

His vision blacked, and then cleared to let him see he was inside his consciousness.

Reshiram looked at him coolly, blank blue eyes that knew everything Hilbert did looking down at him. _Trouble?_

"No shit," Hilbert snapped, holding out one hand, palm up, like he had when he first woke Reshiram from its deep slumber in a rock. The circumstances were vastly different, as was the level of his knowledge, but one thing was still the same.

He was asking Reshiram to share with him its power, so he could face the threat of Team Plasma.

Reshiram eyed the empty, waiting palm with clear distaste, curling its lips up and revealing its ivory fangs. _Ungrateful Avatar_ , the dragon of truth rumbled. _Only seeking me when you have a need._

"Sorry," Hilbert said, though it came out a lot harsher than he meant it to be. He did feel slightly guilty when Reshiram pointed it out. It was just that now was not the time for them to clear out their issues with each other through heart-to-heart, literal soul-to-soul talks. Time in the 'outside' world, so to say, didn't stop or even slow down when he was inside here. That would have been cool and more convenient, but it didn't.

But if there was one good thing about having the vast white dragon of truth and flames tied to his soul, it was that Reshiram knew he meant it. And for all its sass and pickiness, Reshiram was also pretty cool when it came down to it.

After all, the god had stirred in its slumber, saw _Hilbert_ of all people and decided he would make a pretty fly Hero of Truth.

 _Apology accepted, Avatar._ Reshiram rumbled melodiously. _My power is yours, as I swore when you accepted me._

Blue fire engulfed Reshiram's white feathers, but did not burn the dragon. Reshiram reached out with its claws and touched Hilbert's palm, and he too was engulfed in divine fire.

 _But beware,_ Reshiram warned. _Lest you end up using your own life force as kindling for my flames. You have been avoiding the use of this power, and are not used to it. One wrong decision, and you could end up leaving not even ash behind._

"That's the same if I do nothing," he muttered. The Shadow Triad could easily kill him. And Dawn, though not here right now, could return any second.

He couldn't drag her into his issues, caused by him and his stupidity. Not when she already had enough problems of her own. She didn't deserve that – not from him, or from anyone else.

That wasn't what heroes did.

The blackness of his 'inner world' faded away, and Hilbert was back. Time still flowed while he was out of it, but it hadn't been long – half a minute, tops.

But it was enough to raise suspicion in his captors, because they were about to do something.

Too late.

Fire, blue but divine, not like the haunting flames of undead ghosts, erupted from his palms. Unlike the last time the divine fire had leapt from his control, his head was surprisingly cool, and he was willing to let the fire escape. If he burnt down the villa, well, he would owe Caitlin forever and never hear the end of it from her, but at least it would solve the pest problem.

Hopefully Dawn didn't have something important in her room. Seeing as how the Shadow Triad hadn't brought her Poké balls with them on their sweep, he assumed they were all on her.

Smart. He should have kept his Pokémon on them, instead of leaving them to the side and vulnerable to any creepy assassins snatching them up as hostages. He could just imagine Zebstrika sparking with the intent to zap him till he was paralyzed.

The Shadow holding him leapt back, but the fire had already caught. He didn't scream, but he did hiss in pain, and Hilbert smiled grimly. There was no escape from divine fire, intent on punishing lies – any lies.

And the Shadows were those that snuck around in the darkness, willing to deceive and lie. Or so he assumed, anyways.

Well, if the flames could threaten Cheren and Bianca, then they could threaten some criminals.

He thought it was a wrap, until the Shadow in the back – the one that held his Pokémon – pulled out something from the pockets of his dark clothes. A large pearl?

No. Hilbert straightened from his relaxed position, because Reshiram was snarling in his head. Furious, but also wary and, dare he say, nervous. Threatened.

 _Scared_.

What would scare the dragon god of truth?

The pearl, the size of his fist, was something extraordinary beyond its size like the Light Orb had been when Hilbert first touched it. Even without being in contact, Hilbert could feel power of a divine sort radiating from it. Unlike Reshiram's heated air, or Zekrom's ozone and hair-raising chilled lightning, this pearl felt like the ocean that Undella Bay was near – vast, appearing calm but so capable of immense, raw power.

The moment the pearl touched the burning Shadow, the flames twisted and struggled, but were forcibly extinguished.

And when the last of the flames went out, Hilbert choked on the force of invisible backlash crushing his insides, and vomited up blood.


	16. hello, darkness, my old friend

**AN:** it's October and ghostly chapters are a must - but I'm probably not going to make that Halloween Titanium update so here.

Song: 'Sound of Silence' by Disturbed

* * *

 _Hello, darkness, my old friend.  
I've come to talk with you again  
Because a vision softly creeping,  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping_

 _./._

He'd never felt anything like the pain before. To be fair, he'd never tried to actively use Reshiram's flames for anything out of his own free will like this before, so it wasn't like Hilbert had any experiences from the past worth comparing to, but still.

Was this what Reshiram meant when it warned him of using his life force as the fire's kindling? As the fire had fought against that orb, Hilbert had felt the strength drain out of his body, like a container of water so violently shaken that its contents were forcibly dislodged. And when it was out entirely . . .

He spat out again, trying to remove the metallic wet taste of his own blood from his mouth. A little better than before, but still there.

When the flame went out, he didn't see his life flash before his eyes, but he had known he was about to die, lose in the battle of nerves. Life force indeed. The rebounding snap as he instinctively cancelled and pulled back from the fatal chicken game had been nearly enough to kill him.

"Did you think we wouldn't come prepared?" the first one taunted. "Did you think we knew nothing about Avatars, after N?"

N. Of course. Because that hippie was probably all for getting in touch with his new inner self and learning about his powers.

And sure, Reshiram and Zekrom were opposites, but at the core, they were also more alike than any other. They were counterparts – opposites, but balanced. Harmony in divergence.

Of course the Shadow Triad would know a lot about Avatars of dragon gods torn into two by human greed, and how to deal with them.

One shadow reached out, and grabbed him roughly by his arms. When he tried to shake off his grip, he kicked Hilbert in his stomach.

The pain of what felt like crushed organs being violently abused – because, well, that was what was going on there – flared inside his torso, and he cried out. Inside his head Reshiram snarled, but the truth dragon's voice was distant and distorted, like he was hearing them from inside water.

 ** _Focus,_** _Avatar **!**_

 _I'm trying,_ he thought back. Reshiram was trying to run the fire inside so as to heal the wounds from the backlash, but Hilbert wasn't able to cooperate properly.

"Hurry," the last shadow said. "Lord Ghetsis awaits."

A chill of fear ran down his spine. If N was to Hilbert the victim of his crime, the murder of a world, then Ghetsis was a demon that was Hilbert's fear and darkness personified. A manipulative, evil man who looked at a good, pure soul and used it to set his twisted machinations into motion without realizing what powers he was playing with.

A real villain who showed him for the first time how cruel and evil his fellow man could be.

If N hadn't been so shaken and destroyed by his 'father's' revelations, then Hilbert would have lost that duel of beliefs between the Heroes, not just because of his inexperience as an Avatar compared to N, but because his Truth, that despite all of N's words there were still goodness in humans, had been severely shaken by the truth of the older man.

The harsh sound of the door bursting open and slamming against the wall broke through the pain. Hilbert panicked, thoughts of facing Ghetsis again draining out of his head, and opened his mouth to shout a warning to Dawn.

To run. To be careful. To – something.

He choked on blood, again, and retched. Nausea was mixing in with the pain and wasn't adrenaline supposed to block all that stuff out in danger times?

The Shadow Triad didn't rush to grab Dawn and dispose of any witnesses, however. Neither did they try to flee with him.

Instead, they grabbed him – and one punched him in his side when he dribbled blood on an arm – and felt a solid arm apply pressure to his carotid artery.

"Really," said Dawn's voice from the direction of the door. The air grew cold – not a physical drop in temperature, but a chill that came from the presence of something from the depths beyond the known sinking into reach. "You're not doing much to convince me your lot isn't anything but a third-rate criminal without an ounce of creativity in your collective minds."

Hilbert looked up, through the haze drifting in over his sight.

"Stay back, Champion of Sinnoh," the shadow pressing an arm to his throat said.

Dawn stood at the end of the living room, arms crossed. She didn't have her Poké balls on her, as far as Hilbert could tell, but the decidedly cool and regal hold to her posture as she stared down the Shadow Triad made a queen and not a mourning girl standing strong and threatening against a threat.

Still, he would have told her to run. It was one thing to be a Champion, the strongest trainer of a region proved through the toughest of trials, but it was quite another to face down those that didn't play by the rules. Especially when they came prepared with something to nullify even those chosen by the gods.

Hilbert would have, except the way she spoke and stared down the shadows made it sound like . . .

Dawn moved her gaze to meet his eyes. "Hilbert," she said quietly, and though she did not speak down to him like she did to the Shadow Triad, it was no longer Dawn, his Roomie for the vacation speaking.

This was the North Queen speaking to the Hero of Truth, as an equal. Reshiram did not give up its attempts to heal his insides, but the dragon fell silent.

The staring contest ended, and the shadows decided to move first. One of the shadows not holding him flickered away – a dark blur raced towards Dawn, reaching to grab her by her throat.

"Dawn!" He tried to head to her, but the arm tightened, and he gagged.

From the shadows between Dawn and the ninja a clawed hand as pale as snow shot out, dragging a long, snowflake-pattered sleeve, and sharply gestured forth. The temperature dropped – for real, this time – and sharp crystals of ice materialized rapidly before flying forth and imbedding in the arms and legs of the shadow.

Despite the wounds, the ninja still tried to reach her, but the shadows inside the villa thickened, and surged to the assailant. Darkness like viscous liquid grabbed his limbs and bound them harshly, forcing him to the ground in an unwilling kneel. A ghost in robes of snow white decorated with the patterns of falling flakes drifted into sight, and glittered its predatory yellow eyes as it reached forwards, strengthening the shadow bindings with ice manacles on top.

From behind, Hilbert felt something cold and indescribable brush against his skin as the two shadows – the one holding him and the one with the pearl – were also seized and torn away from him. Without anyone holding him up, he fell to his knees.

So that was why Reshiram had reacted like it had to Dawn. She was an Avatar – and to a powerful god, at that. One that was ancient – because for all their power and importance, Reshiram and Zekrom were young gods, born in the midst of the age of magic and man, when kingdoms were built with humans as kings and Pokémon as followers.

The shadows Dawn had called forth were not only strong, but they were old. Far older than Reshiram was.

The one with the orb pulled out another orb. No, not an orb. This was a crystal with a metallic sheen, like gold shaped like a decorative spearhead. He tried to cut through the shadows holding his wrist with it, but the snow ghost blasted him with an Icy Wind, and snatched the golden crystal away from him.

Dawn looked upon the trapped Shadow Triad, gaze unreadable. She was a stranger to him, like this. Every last bit of her was hidden behind a face of wintry indifference.

"Hilbert," she said suddenly. The serenity of her voice was strangely dissonant to him, like she should have been angrier. Her being so calm felt _wrong_.

"Yeah?" he croaked out.

"May I have permission to be in Unova?"

The sarcastic part of himself – while a piece of his being that he used quite frequently – inappropriately reared up, pointing out that she was already in here so asking for permission now was a little bit late, wasn't it?

But there was more she was asking him here. Reshiram shook – not physically, but the emotional turbulence of the truth dragon was as if it was shaking in a mix of emotions, like fear, worry, tension, excitement – but didn't try to stop Hilbert.

"Yes."

Like how the shadows had thickened earlier on similar to the ectoplasm of ghosts, this time the air itself filled and became weighed down with the pressure of a presence. He didn't know how he had just chalked up Dawn's god – whatever it was – to being old. It had been beyond old when Reshiram was just a part of the Great Dragon of the Twin Heroes. It was ancient, close to the origin, a witness from the days when Time was beginning and Space was unstable.

What she had done before receiving his permission hadn't been power. That was just skill and experience being an Avatar.

This –

The feeling of pressure bearing down like a wall, a force that could not be denied.

The shadows of all the rooms not only thickening, but becoming nearly tangible, and rippling like the surface of a lake filled with glossy black, liquified death.

The sound of ghosts, hidden from sight, speaking tongues as dead as they were in distorted voices.

The red that had taken over Dawn's irises, and the black her sclerae had turned.

This was the power an Avatar with her soul tied to her god, accepting of its power, could reach.

Dawn took a deep breath, and then let it release, like she was stretching her breathing and letting it slowly extend. The snow ghost drifted over to her side, and deposited the crystal into her hands before sinking into the shadows.

"Much better," she said quietly. She nodded to Hilbert, and then turned to give the Shadow Triad her attention. "Now, I have a few questions to ask of you – questions about the orbs that you stole from me, and killed my starter to get."


	17. heal my wounds

**AN: Happy Halloween!**

Song: 'Loner' by Outsider, 'Distortion World theme' from Pt.

* * *

 _Is there anyone who can heal my wounds_  
 _Left alone, it continues to fester_  
 _I'm so scared of love and people_  
 _I'm scared of being alone, I fear being forgotten_

 _./._

Reshiram sent him the all's clear once the last of the rebound's traces were healed. His insides still felt tender, but Hilbert no longer felt like he would end up dropping from mass internal hemorrhaging.

Not that he could properly appreciate that, after the bomb Dawn had dropped.

He climbed back to his feet as Dawn hung the Shadow Triad upside down with the shadows she leaked. It was almost funny, the way they were strung up in the air, like some sort of petty villains caught and hoisted up in a cartoon.

Except liquid-like darkness still seeped out from Dawn and the shadows in the villa, and Dawn looked at them with the eyes of an ancient god.

"You alright?" Hilbert asked, even though she was the hero of the day who had turned the tables around on his assaulters and he was just the one that had coughed up blood and nearly been kidnapped.

"No need to worry," Dawn said, and Hilbert hated how the words were flat and automatic, like she said them so often they were reflexive in her mouth to every bit of concern she was met with.

But he didn't get a chance to press on, because she kept her attention on the Shadow Triad and spoke to them this time.

"Nothing to say?" she asked, almost sounding bored. "Then I'll talk, so your primitive minds can understand what I'm asking better."

The Froslass frisked them down, and removed not only the large pearl from earlier, but also a diamond of roughly the same size that glittered fiercely, and his own Pokémon. All of them, the ghost retrieved and returned to Dawn – or, in the case of his Pokémon, placed on the coffee table next to her as she spoke. Hilbert, relieved at their safety, paid more attention to Dawn.

"Initially, I thought it might be that you were planning on invading Sinnoh. Stealing the orbs . . ." she trailed off as she examined the three stones in her hands before setting them aside on the coffee table. They almost just looked like paperweights, nothing too important.

"But that wasn't it, was it?" Dawn asked, turning her gaze back to the Shadow Triad. Her voice was soft and lulling like peacefully falling snow. "You just wanted power. The Hero of Ideals lost, and the Hero of Truth ended up the Champion of Unova. The region Team Plasma sought to control now had a guardian more powerful than ever. One with the grace of a god watching over him. Made the goal that much harder to reach."

Reshiram stirred inside Hilbert, and he swallowed. Dawn didn't know that he and Reshiram – they weren't like her. They couldn't do what she did. _He_ couldn't do what she did.

Dawn smiled down at the Shadow Triad. She was sitting, and looking up at the faces of the ninjas hanging from the ceiling due to her short height, and yet it was her looking down at them, not the other way around.

"So what I want to know," she said sweetly. "Is how you found out about them. How you knew I had them. How you knew where they were hidden."

One of the shadows spat. A tendril of darkness rose from Dawn's body and batted the saliva away so it wouldn't land on her face, but Dawn frowned delicately in a way that reminded Hilbert very much of dainty Caitlin.

And they were both royals in their manners, with the cold, proud fury reacting to punish the offense.

"Froslass," she said softly, and the snow-sleeved arm shot out once more to throw shards of ice at the offender, and some at his brothers for good measure. One for all and all for one – the punishments went to.

The triad didn't make a sound, but their blood dripped from their wounds down to the carpet. Hilbert began drafting the apology to Caitlin in the back of his mind.

"Pity. Well, it's fine if you don't talk," Dawn said, reaching over to pick up the golden crystal again and tapping it with a fingernail. "It's not absolutely vital that I learn where the breach in security is."

The golden crystal flared with light, and the darkness stopped rippling so much. The inside of the villa returned to normal.

Almost. The Shadow Triad still hung like they were meat hanging from the hooks inside a slaughterhouse. And the butcher-figure in the scene, the young North Queen, had no mercy on her mind.

"You didn't use the Griseous Orb," she said, setting the golden crystal down again. "I assume it's because you couldn't. Antimatter is – quite literally – an entirely separate matter from time and space, isn't it? Your master was wise to not make foolish attempts with this one. It would have let me track you down faster. Oh, yes," she added when the shadows all stiffened. "I know of your master. Shadow Triad – the personal servants of Ghetsis, true leader and mastermind behind Team Plasma."

Dawn glanced in Hilbert's direction. He met her eyes, but couldn't pick up anything in their darkness. At least they were no longer red – the god's eyes had faded away when the crystal had flared.

This was all Dawn.

"Don't worry," she reassured them – all of them, Hilbert and the Shadow Triad. "I won't infringe upon the Avatar of Truth more than I have. Unova is his demesne, not mine. Only the orbs belong to Sinnoh, and I won't lay a hand on you once my business is done."

Hilbert, having expected for her to feed them toe-first to the Jellicent in the ocean nearby or something on that level, blinked at the sudden change in direction. She was letting them go? Just like that?

Reshiram rumbled inside. _The Renegade is not kind **,**_ the dragon of truth spoke quietly, like everyone in the room could hear its voice when in reality only Hilbert could hear the words.

 _But Dawn is,_ he thought. _Sort of._

Was she?

Hilbert, unsure, held back.

"But my second reason for coming to Unova, other than to retrieve the orbs I was entrusted with," Dawn said, voice hushed as if she was about to share a delightful piece of gossip with them. "Is to let you know what awaits you, and more specifically, what awaits Ghetsis."

The darkness dropped the Shadow Triad, who – to their credit – mostly landed on their feet. Hilbert was immediately on guard, but Dawn stayed calm. And they were smart enough to not attack, instead warily shifting on their toes.

"Your master will live a life where I will not interfere with him, not until he crosses me of his own volition once more," Dawn promised them, smiling. Her eyes narrowed into curved slits, and her upturned lips opened to continue the prophecy of doom she swore to them.

"But when the last breath leaves his body and his soul departs to the realm of the dead, he will wish that death was as peaceful as the poets sang about. His soul will not know rest long after I am dust in the wind long scattered to the four cardinal directions, long after the nations of modern times have fallen. One second shall pass like an eternity, and until the Final Winter comes and all is ended, he will suffer beyond mortal imagination."

The shadows stared at her. Hilbert, after he got over his shock, nudged Reshiram.

 _Is that even_ possible _?_

The dragon of truth's answer was slow in coming. _The Renegade became the monarch of all ghosts after the Fall,_ Reshiram said in measured words. _Souls of the deceased are its domain._

Hilbert took that to mean 'theoretically, but it shouldn't be done'.

"We will protect him," a shadow said at last. It sounded futile even to Hilbert's ears, and Dawn giggled in response like it was a witty joke. That small sound cruelly shattered what fragile hope they had.

"How will you?" she asked, tipping her head slightly to one side, before she began listing off harsh truths like a laundry list. "Your master has no favor of a god protecting him, while I have the favors of all the gods in Sinnoh, save for the Creator. He is no host to a divine entity, while my soul is tied to that of one of the oldest gods in this world. At the very least, I can guarantee that to him death is something to be feared and avoided at all cost, for he will know no peace. Once he dies, there is nothing that will allow him protection from Giratina personally bringing his punishment to him. If his soul struggles to fight passing on after the last breath leaves his body, all the untamed ghosts of this realm will march as legions to hunt his spirit down and drag him in shackles to the Renegade."

The shadows were speechless. There were no 'special effects' going on in the background anymore. None of the darkness come to life and rippling like some otherworldly magic. The words themselves might have almost been an empty threat in how grandiose they were.

But for all her small stature and easy smile, Dawn's eyes were – behind their lashes and smiling curve – hard and cold, glittering like ice.

She meant every word, every promise.

Ghetsis was just one mortal man who had crossed the wrong god's Avatar. Or, Hilbert thought suddenly, remembering Reshiram's earlier words. The wrong Avatar herself.

"You stole the relics of the gods," she said. "From my care. You broke the wards I had drawn and placed, trespassed sacralised ground with tainted intentions, and killed the guardian I had appointed. Why so surprised, foolish gentlemen? Did you think there would be no punishment for your crimes?"

Truth, every last part of her words, Hilbert thought, and then froze, because he could discern truth with Dawn.


	18. the darkness of the mind

**AN: Remembrance Day update - Lest We Forget.** Dawn interlude part 1 of 2.

Song: 'Dead Quiet' by Bluegem.

* * *

 _There is no place to hide  
in the darkness of the mind  
it makes me feel so blind  
I feel so left behind_

 _./._

The first time Dawn faced Cyrus, she felt an irrational sort of dislike swell up inside of her. She could not place its source in the handful of times she ran across his way through the length of her journey until she faced him one last time in the Distorted World, where no life could naturally live.

It was a form of recognition of one like herself, she realized as he ranted and raved, his mask shattering to reveal the unhealed wounds inside. Recognition and understanding that they were cut from the same material, and an instinctual hatred of the other for their similar qualities. Here was a man with the rationale of glacial ice directing his every action and the heart of fire fuelling his motives. His will and logic dictated him, but it was his emotions – though he denied them most vehemently – that fueled his drive.

An almost perfect example of the ideal Sinnohan, Dawn had thought. Of course, the true perfect example would have been herself, because he was damaged and weak where she was whole and strong.

And that, at its essence, was why Dawn had so disliked him. She had grown up with Johanna showering her with love and affection. Her dead father's presence was something beyond her important memories, and so she deemed it no loss in the experiences that shaped her as a human being. She was raised with love, and so she learnt it well, and valued its importance.

Johanna was a sharp woman. She had realized since Dawn's earliest days that her daughter was not, emotionally, the same as other, 'normal' children, and ensured that she would follow morals and be 'good'. Her mother had taught her why logically, she should obey societal rules, and create emotional bonds.

And her efforts to restrain her daughter to allow her freedom worked. Dawn was charming and charismatic when she wanted and needed to be, but she used it as a barrier and allowed only a certain select few, like her family, friends and Pokémon into her boundaries.

It was why she was able to achieve everything she had. Sinnoh was the land of the north, cold but strong, dangerous but free. To survive it one needed more than just their wits or reckless passion, one needed calibrated reasoning and methodical action, as well as ambition as strong as iron.

Cyrus reminded her of what could have been, in a less fortunate circumstance. For all he had achieved and managed to accomplish, he was still broken and bent, and it served as his fatal flaw. He was, in a way, the twisted reflection of herself.

And so, she hated him.

Even then, she had been young. Her dislike of him had been instinctive, but also blind. Not yet accustomed to loss or hatred or disinterest from those she deemed important to herself, Dawn had not been prepared for the full impact of what loss truly meant.

The impact, when it came a few years later, left her initially stunned and unsure on how to react. The fury began to rise in her only as the funeral was coming to a close.

A heavy sigh filled her ears, but Dawn didn't turn her head to look at him. Barry hadn't made the sound to grab her attention, anyways. It was just his habit. He understood better than most. For all his usual loud nature, he also possessed the iron will she regarded and valued so highly. If she masked her ambition with sleek charm, he destroyed barriers with his outgoing, almost brash personality.

There were no empty words of 'sorry' or 'my condolences' or 'he's in a good place now', not from Barry.

Good, because if she heard one more brownnosing snub try to use her starter's death as an excuse to speak to her, public image be damned she was going to set her Ghost-types on them and give them a taste of literal hell.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked instead, voice lowered and quiet. It was unlike his usual persona, but Dawn appreciated it. She had a headache.

Her eyes drifted to the tombstone. Somehow, reporters had found out that she was holding Empoleon's funeral, and had crashed what was supposed to be a private event. Professor Rowan had stepped in before she snapped, but even watching her mentor give a good verbal lashing did nothing to improve her mood. All they had done was shove the stunned girl aside to wake the queen demanding blood and retribution.

Truth be told, she felt as if nothing would make her feel better. Nothing, except maybe tracking down the culprits responsible and showing them just who they had made the mistake of crossing-

 ** _Dawn_** , Giratina said as a warning inside her. Even the Renegade could not bring back the dead. She had known before asking, but had asked the god of the dead anyways as she stood in front of a cooling corpse that had once been her most faithful partner.

And the god she hosted since that day when she faced down a man cut from the same cloth as her had refused. Understandable. Rational. There were laws to follow, and despite the myths and legends and past history, the Renegade in the present obeyed the laws.

Dawn still hadn't spoken to Giratina for a few days. Not that it mattered to the Renegade, who had existed since Creation and would continue to do so long after she was gone.

"Track down the orbs," she answered. Barry was one of the few people who knew about what she was, and what she did.

Her best human friend didn't try to stop her. "Don't get hurt," he said instead, and lightly punched her shoulder. "Or I'll fine you."

Dawn tried to pull up the corners of her lips, but she failed to smile properly. "No need to worry," she said instead.

Barry scowled at the response he had grown up hearing from her. "That's when I worry the most."

Perhaps he was right to do so. When she followed the tracks to a different region and passed over the borders of Unova, she nearly choked. The pain was agonizing, like she was being crushed over and over again by hundred of hammers.

 ** _Breathe_** , Giratina urged inside of her. **_Let go_**. Dawn felt their connected soul grow hot and agitated, almost as if it was inflamed.

She also felt Giratina's irritation and worry as the Renegade began to pull back the powers it had entrusted her with.

"What are you-" she began, but found that with less of the Renegade's powers active inside her, the easier it became to breathe.

Once most of the pain was gone – with only a hammer occasionally knocking on her head and heart – Dawn reached for the decreased connection. "What was that?" she asked as she wiped away the nosebleed. She hadn't even realized the vessels in her nose had burst when the pain was at its fullest.

A pity. She had liked this sweater.

 ** _You entered a region protected by an Avatar_** , Giratina replied. **_With the intent to attack its inhabitants, selective as they are. This is not your home territory._**

Dawn set her jaw. So, that left manually tracking down the thieves herself out of her options.

But . . . .

"The ghosts are always bound to the Renegade, regardless of boundaries made by the living," she murmured.

Giratina knew her too well, and understood her line of reasoning immediately. **_Correct_**.

Fine, so she would imbue her Ghost-types with Giratina's powers and send them out to sweep Unova, carrying the order from the god of the dead to other wild Ghost-types. It was a more effective way to act than for her to run around tracking them down herself.

She just needed a place to stay. And camping in the outdoors of a region literally hostile to her was not something Dawn had the patience to deal with.

Caitlin was not amused.

"Honestly, Dawn," she said with a most disapproving frown. Always the perfect lady. Caitlin had always been so very much like a princess, even when they were younger. "This is illegal, and you of all people should know it."

But Dawn had always been a queen.

"Would you prefer the alternative?" she raised an eyebrow, hiding behind the mask just how wretched she felt. It was the combination of all the headaches, hangovers and cramps she could imagine, boiling at her like a fever.

Caitlin huffed, and set the small purse she was carrying on the counter. "It's Unovan currency," she said without waiting for Dawn to ask. "As well as a booklet containing all the places you can get sustenance in Undella. Wear a disguise and don't be seen, because I will deny it."

It was, for all the things she asked of Caitlin, a very generous response. "Thank you," Dawn said.

"Take care of yourself," was the reply. All blonds around her, Dawn thought as Caitlin left, seemed to doubt her ability for self-care. Cynthia had said something along those lines as Dawn asked her to retake her place as Champion of Sinnoh once more, while she was out of Sinnoh.

But however she had appeared to those worrying about her back in her home, it was far worse for her in Unova. The restrictions of being an Avatar in a region she had no permission to be in meant she could barely move without feeling like she was walking in a waist-deep pool filled with wet concrete. The very air felt heavy to her, as if telling her that her presence was forbidden and not natural in it.

As for using her abilities as an Avatar? 'Borrowing' the powers of the gods in Sinnoh was out of the question, and even Giratina's presence in her was dampened. All that was required of her as an Avatar of Giratina was to imbue her Ghost-types with the Renegade's powers and send them out in her stead, but even that was a strain on her and the nausea made her feel utterly miserable.

Froslass and Drifblim took turns, resting one night while the other searched Unova for a sign of the orbs. Carrying the mark of the first ghost, the original shade of life left behind, all ghosts that they ran into would be compelled to help their search. Urged by the god of the dead and the Avatar hosting the Renegade, the dead shades combed the region for the guilty.

In the meantime, Dawn resided in Caitlin's villa and slept fretfully, dreaming of sights seen through the eyes of Froslass and Drifblim. What ghosts saw were very different from what her own eyes did, and though carrying Giratina's presence inside her allowed a glimpse into the other world, it was another thing entirely to be completely immersed in the experience. Her slumber provided no true rest.

But they were better than the nightmares she got when she tried to sleep in the day, when her ghosts hid in the shadows and rested in their search. She saw her Empoleon in his pool of blood, saw him still and gone beyond her reach. Imagined what it would be like though it tortured her, remembered all the happy memories they had created together.

He had been her first Pokémon. The first step to it all. He was the beginning of what had made the North Queen.

Dawn acknowledged and cared for only a few around her. And as rare things were wont to be, they held a special, irreplaceable position that if forcibly vacated, left a large, noticeable impact.

Ghosts never were very good at forgiving. The whole reason why they had stayed behind was because their grudge had forced the twisted shade of life to stay beyond death on a plane they did not truly belong in. vengeance poisoned and twisted them in their undead life if left uncontrolled.

And she hosted the god of such spirits, always dancing on the edge to madness as her soul was tied to the abyss that was the first ghost in existence.

Dawn forced herself to eat, chewing the cold food slowly without really tasting it, and then she curled up under her blanket again, feeling like a block of ice. The sights her Froslass was witnessing began crawling into her brain once more, and she closed her eyes so she didn't have to suffer the headache of seeing two completely different things again.

The path of vengeance was miserable, the path of duty was hard, and the path of mourning was heartbreaking. All three paths were one, and it was a painful one to travel down, but she dogged on, determined to see its end if it killed her.

Inside Dawn's mind, Giratina worried silently.

 _./._

 _Dead Quiet here  
and no one is near  
This is just so exactly like the land of the dead  
cause it's  
Dead Quiet here_


	19. lost souls and reverie

**AN:** Dawn interlude part 2 of 2. Last update for a while since I'm going to be super busy.

Song: 'Renegades' by X Ambassadors.

* * *

 _Run away with me_  
 _Lost souls and reverie_  
 _Running wild and running free_  
 _Two kids, you and me_

 _./._

"You're not what I expected," Ethan Gold said at last.

Dawn didn't break eye contact or speak. Simply put, she did not respond. Giratina was calm within her, which meant there was no need for her to worry.

And it was impractical to get worked up over something that didn't require it.

"Someone taller, maybe," he continued. "Like one of the Iron Queens from the myths of Sinnoh."

But then again, she was a human being with emotions, and her emotions never were calm when someone commented on her height. She imagined freezing him over with an Ice Beam from Froslass. Or better yet, dragging him into the Distorted World and locking him up there for years in his time, while in the real world only minutes passed. Enough to drive anyone mad.

But even with his careless attitude, he was powerful, of that she was certain. The light that only she could see blazed off him, a glowing halo of hope and restoration and salvation. His soul was tied to Ho-Oh, and she supposed it made sense for him to be reflecting his 'guest'.

Having gained permission to be in Sinnoh from her – though she retained the right to pull back the permission at any given moment – he seemed at ease. Coming in peace, he simply remained long enough to let her know that she was not the only Avatar in the world. That there were at least two more that he had met, though not in Sinnoh.

Ethan Gold seemed like a cheerful, carefree type of young man, but Dawn had grown up training herself to see past the mask.

"Your warning is received," she told him. "And you have no need to worry. I don't plan on abusing the powers I have to harm the world." It was counterproductive to do such a thing, anyways. The current situation was quite favorable for her. Should everything proceed as planned, she would be Champion of Sinnoh soon.

His golden eyes glittered in amusement. "Not what I expected," he repeated his earlier words, before giving her an exaggerated, dramatic bow. "But welcome, milady Dawn Berlitz, to the Club of Avatars."

Dawn woke up from a rare non-nightmare that was more of a memory, thinking that Ethan had the unfortunate habit of thinking himself far funnier than he actually was.

But undoubtedly, unmistakeably, he had radiated the aura of an Avatar – the eternal power of a god's intertwined with the brightness that only a mortal could have, creating something both of, and not quite of, this world.

The Hero of Truth, on the other hand . . .

"Why didn't I recognize him?" Dawn asked aloud later that very morning, the hot water running down her body and washing away the dirt and grime of the last few days. When was the last time she had taken a shower?

She grimaced when she could not find the answer to her question. Honestly. She hated appearing vulnerable or disgusting to even her closest friends, let alone a stranger.

But she had, hadn't she? When she saw the young man, she'd been too out of it to pay attention to what he was saying. Then, in the next morning, she had tried to subtly influence his consciousness to leave and forget about her, never mind the pain it gave her, only to realize that she couldn't pressure him at all.

And only then had Dawn recognized the young man's face. And only then had she realized that the ghastly hallucinations haunting her every moment on this path of vengeance were gone, no longer whispering in her ears in voices no one else could hear or creeping in like horrifying shadows in the corner of her eyes on the border of reality and insanity.

'But welcome, milady Dawn Berlitz, to the Club of Avatars,' Ethan had said. Ethan not included, the other Avatars who had the fortune of having their encounters with the divine private kept themselves on the downlow. Powers of gods in their grasp aside, they were, at the end of the day, only human, and too few against a majority. Best not to risk it, was her line of thought.

But recently, two more had been loudly and publicly been claimed by more gods, in a region far from the others. The public would have seen it simply as a divine being choosing a champion of the value it embodied, but as an Avatar Dawn saw kindred beings come into a new life, a new existence from the choice.

Coming to Unova after the two had been chosen – even if one of them was currently hidden from public sight at the moment – she should have expected for the possibility of running into one of them. But that had, like everything else about her life, taken a backseat, except now Dawn had encountered one out of the blue.

Only years of practice in keeping a smooth, unflappable face kept her from showing what she felt on her face – and even with that, Dawn wasn't sure if she had kept her composure.

Was he here because he knew? Was he here to stop her?

Was he acting ignorant to taunt her?

The dragon gods of Truths and Ideals had been sealed away for a long time. Who knew what powers they granted their human hosts? Had he seen through her in the brief glance? She had blurted out a comment to throw him off before leaving the kitchen, almost too much like fleeing for her to be happy about the retreat, but what if it was too late?

 ** _Unlikely_** , Giratina whispered, voice sounding distant. The connection was still very weak, for her sake more than the Renegade's, but Giratina always answered her. They were one in two and two in one. **_His connection to Reshiram is frail at best. And you are my host – there shall be no invasion of your thoughts while I protect you._**

Dawn calmed down slightly at that. Giratina's presence, she did not mind. The Renegade was a kindred spirit, one whose soul was tied to hers. A complete stranger's, on the other hand, was unacceptable.

But a frail connection?

"Frail, like the one you're keeping with me right now?" Dawn asked.

 ** _Yes, but also faint, like it was unused for a long time._**

Dawn frowned. It had not been long since the birth of the Hero of Truth had been announced. There was no reason as to why it should feel faint and unused –

Unless the Champion of Unova was deliberately avoiding the divine soul tied to his own, and had been since the beginning.

Giratina's presence was still far, but it knew her too well to not take notice of the flurry of thoughts running through her head. **_What will you do now?_**

Dawn pushed aside any and all thoughts. "First," she decided, turning off the hot water and stepping out of the large stall. The shower had woken her up – but the fresh feeling would not last long, and she had to strike while the iron was still hot and her mind still clear. "Clean up."

 ** _Clean up?_**

She curled her lips. "I hate not being presentable." Both in body and in residence.

So she cleaned the villa, internally sighing at the mess she had made. It was hard to notice when she was up only in the dark of the night, seeing what the dead saw rather than what the living held as important, but in the daylight the once-pristine villa was a mess. The sight would have given Caitlin and her devoted butler a heart attack.

The Champion of Unova, despite not having contributed to the state of the house, followed her around, helping her with the cleaning. A part of her was annoyed, if only because it was a reminder of her imperfection and failure, no matter how minor, but the help was appreciated. Cleaning was not her forte.

When it was all over and she pressed him lightly, subtly digging for information, it was surprising how easily he gave it. This one, she thought in amusement, didn't know much about a poker face. a true Hero of Truth. His reactions were too easy to read, his thoughts too easy to predict.

He didn't know who she was. And, apparently, her knowing who he was but not making a big deal of the matter made him relax.

A simple, straightforward soul. She was familiar with the type, having grown up with a best friend of the same character. Strong of will, but their strength could be their weakness. Direct and blunt, though capable of being more.

Treat him like a less-hyper Barry, Dawn concluded.

So they fell into a quiet, regular-paced schedule of doing nothing. Exposure to sunlight was only through the large windows, veiled by gauzy curtains that danced in the breeze that drifted inside when they left some open to air out the villa. Other than the time they had stepped outside to take out the garbage, their exposure to the outside world was limited to having food brought in – and even then, Dawn let the exchange be completed by Lopunny, who knew how to recognize the value of human currency.

In a way, it was as if time did not pass for them in the small bubble they had made this villa into. The passing of days held no true meaning or weight for her anymore. His presence, she found, cleared her head while she was awake, like a brief but quiet and serene teatime in the middle of a hectic day to soothe frayed nerves. It was a time of peace she could not find at night, or while she slept. Sleep drained her, and consciousness refreshed her.

Dawn didn't often open up to others easily. She always drew lines and boundaries with a friendly, beautiful smile and charming, carefully chosen words that left the recipients not even fully aware of the true distance she had left between them.

Maybe it was just the familiarity she found in him to someone she had let in beyond her usual walls a very long time ago. Maybe it was because he was a fellow Champion. Maybe it was because they were both talented trainers who had stepped on the top and seen from above, an experience impossible to fully share and understand until one had stood on the summit with one's own feet.

Maybe it was because he was a fellow Avatar. Maybe it was because he gave her respite from the dark pain that gnawed away at her sanity like acid.

Maybe she was just tired and looking for someone to rely on.

Whatever the reason, she found it hard to actually draw lines between them. Somehow, he was just slipping in past her usual defenses.

Treat him like a less-hyper Barry. Her best friend, her brother, her oldest friend. The person she was most familiar with, knew best and was known best by.

Even subconsciously, she had been allowing him access. To reach her, to affect her.

The more she recovered her sanity from the abyss it had been slipping into, the more Dawn tried to excuse it, but her denial completely shattered in their battle.

"So if Drifblim wasn't your strongest, you better send out your strongest now." He was smiling brilliantly now, and she saw how he, too, felt the rush in a battle, knew what the tingle of excitement running like electricity down the spine was like when facing someone who gave a challenge.

"I can't," Dawn replied, thinking about the reason behind all her current suffering and her being here for the first time under daylight since gaining a roommate.

With anyone else, she would have given them a look as chilling as Snowpoint in winter if they knew, or made arrangements to throw their lives into a series of unfortunate events if they did not behind a sweet smile.

With Hilbert, the truth – at least part of it – had slipped out. She couldn't really look at him smiling like that in this moment, and plot up anything except a battle strategy because her heart was thrumming in excitement as well.

Was it his powers as an Avatar working? But Giratina had not reacted in defense, so that could not be it.

"What?" Hilbert asked.

"I can't," she said instead, repeating her words from before. Which was still true. She could not send out Empoleon, who had been her strongest. She could not send out Steelix, who was too big for the villa's arena. "She's too big."

Even in a moment of revelation, Dawn was still a Champion. "Glaceon!"

Hilbert, Dawn accepted, was just someone she considered special. Like how this brief vacation from the dark mess her life had spiralled down into was something special.

And like all special things, its significance was in its rarity and fragility.

That night, when she searched instead of sleeping like Hilbert had told her to do, she found Empoleon's killers. The ghosts reported their movements to be following in a straight, urgent direction.

 ** _They come towards you,_** Giratina noted. The Renegade spoke only what she noticed, but it displeased Dawn greatly, nonetheless.

The time for peace was over. It was time now, for war.

And she would not let Hilbert or the villa that had offered her refuge from herself be swept up in its violent waves.

"It won't take long," Dawn said quietly. Even with her powers as an Avatar severely attenuated, and fighting on foreign territory, she was a Champion. She created the path to victory and marched down it, a queen with a legion of the undead at her beck and call.

The queen in her got ready to step out of the villa and set foot on the soil of the land of kings, dragons and heroes to face her enemies.

The tired, mourning girl that wanted to heal left a note so as to not worry the boy who had unknowingly helped her.

 _./._

 _Long live the pioneers  
Rebels and mutineers  
Go forth and have no fear  
Come close the end is near_


	20. for a little while here

**AN: Happy New Year!**

Song: 'Afire Love' by Ed Sheeran

* * *

 _Darlin' hold me in your arms  
The way you did last night  
And we'll lie inside  
For a little while here oh_

 _./._

They let the Shadow Triad go.

Actually, it was more like Dawn let them go because she didn't care about them once her business was over, and Hilbert didn't really have it in him to hold them. He had just recovered from healing his shaken insides after vomiting up blood. He couldn't deal with them right now.

A part of him also could not help but pity the souls condemned to a terrible, terrible fate. Anything he could do to them paled in comparison to what Dawn had promised.

Dawn remained glaring at the door for a few more seconds after the ninjas disappeared from sight before both she and the Froslass relaxed.

"They're gone now," she said.

And she was telling the truth. Hilbert swallowed, and sat down on the sofa. Like the days before, they were still next to each other, but the small stretch of upholstered distance seemed so far apart now.

Dawn slumped against the sofa. "Any questions you want to ask me?" she said.

There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, some to which he had picked up the answer from, to some he wasn't sure he could ask.

In the end there was one question that he prioritized over all others.

"Are you alright?"

She turned her head so that it was still resting on the sofa, but now both eyes could make contact with his. It reminded him of the first day, when she had put her head against the table's surface after cleaning the entire villa.

Dawn smiled. it was real, it was sad, it was twisted and it wasn't happy, but it looked like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Not now," she said. "I'm still mourning and tired. But I'll recover, I suppose. I'm fairly strong."

Hilbert laughed, thinking of her in battle and her condemning the Shadow Triad to a fate worse than death. A Champion, an Avatar. His thoughts slowed and soured. "Yeah, I noticed."

She noticed the change, and stifled a yawn, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand

"After I won my seventh badge," she began, voice lilting like she was telling him a bedtime story. "There was a crisis on Mount Coronet, where someone called Cyrus wanted to create a new world for himself by harnessing the power of the gods."

He slowly leaned back into the sofa, feeling like this was a story he needed to hear.

"He summoned the two dragons, Dialga and Palkia, and the lake guardians of Spirit tried to stop them, but they could only balance one of the duo, not both." Dawn pressed her lips together. "It felt like the world was going to end in that moment, on the top of that mountain."

Hilbert tried to imagine it, a younger Dawn standing on the top of a frozen mountain, still a queen, still standing strong, but nonetheless afraid as she faced a man who had managed to harness not one but two powerful gods with no one but her Pokémon at her side, and that being enough to keep her standing.

"And then Giratina came," Dawn whispered. "The rippling instability in time and space as the gods were forced into creating a world before the needed time called the Renegade, who acted to set things correctly. Those in the vicinity – Cyrus, Cynthia, me – were dragged into a different world reflecting this one."

Dawn trailed off and a light crease appeared between her brows, like she was trying to figure out her words.

"Giratina," she said at last, and Hilbert knew that she wouldn't tell him about the details of the reflected world. Not yet, possibly not ever. "Needed an Avatar to set things right, and to enter our world safely. The Renegade had been punished enough, but the laws of the mortal realm had changed, and gods needed to have mortal avatars now. I was offered the choice, and I took it."

 _I was offered the choice, and I took it._

All this time Hilbert had always seen it as him being the chosen one, cheesy as it sounded, and not really having a choice but to go along with what had been decided. Dawn clearly saw it differently.

Dawn reached out and took Hilbert's hand in a strong grip. "A lot of the child kings are Avatars," she told him. "Me. Ethan Gold of Johto. Red Ketchum of Kanto. May Maple of Hoenn. You. N Harmonia."

Child kings. "Were they-" his voice broke. "Did they-"

Dawn seemed to know what he wanted to ask, but not unkindly, she did not answer, and waited.

The lump in his throat nearly choked him, but Hilbert got the words out. "Have any of them – any of us – become Champions before becoming Avatars?"

Which came first, the bird or the egg?


	21. drop tears in the morning

**AN:** the music video for this song is where I got the reference for the cover image by doodleblah.

Song: 'Capsize' by Frenship feat. Emily Warren.

* * *

 _Drop tears in the morning_  
 _Give in to the lonely_  
 _Here it comes with no warning_  
 _Capsize, I'm first in the water_

 _./._

Avatar. The very word referred to the manifestation of a deity in this mortal dimension. He was like the filtered version of Reshiram manifested in this world, like some video game character, an insignificant gathering of pixels that could be deleted with the press of a few buttons. Insignificant. Not real.

At what point was he himself? What, after becoming Reshiram's vessel and being made anew, was he able to say that everything he had done was him and not the god of truth?

What was Hilbert? Who was Hilbert? Was he anything but a shell, a vessel for a greater power that used him as a filter? Was there nothing else that was special or significant about him?

Him being Champion, he had clung to tightly like a drowning man holds onto his salvation. It had always been his dream, to be a trainer, to be the very best like no one ever was. Realistically he knew that was impossible, knew there was always someone better, but still, to step into the Unovan Hall of Fame, watch the names of his team and his number be forever recorded and immortalized was a dream that he had made reality.

But was it really him?

Dawn blinked slowly. "One, I believe," she said, words deliberate. "I think – and please know that I have never met him myself, so don't quote me – Red became an Avatar after he became Champion."

"So," Hilbert said. She had tried to help, saying it calmly, but it was never the speed or tone of the words that was a problem, just their meaning and content and the way they took the air out of his lungs like a punch to the chest. "So. You, and Ethan Gold, and, and . . ."

"And May Maple of Hoenn," Dawn supplied the name.

Hilbert nodded, unable to say anything else. He gestured vaguely with his hands in a way that could have meant anything.

Dawn picked up his meaning. "We all became Avatars before we became Champions, yes."

So that was the truth that he had been trying so hard to not see. He really was nothing special, just a tool of Reshiram chosen to fight against the one chosen by Zekrom.

A sharp pain on his forehead snapped him out of his thoughts. Hilbert stared with wide eyes at Dawn, who had her pointer finger extended. Like she had flicked him. Without holding anything back.

"Ow?" It came out as a question, because the confusion was a bigger priority than the stinging sensation.

"I know what you're thinking," Dawn said, annoyance clear on her face. "So I'm going to tell you to stop it right now."

"What am I thinking?" he asked bitterly.

Dawn looked right back at him, matching his bitterness with something that he would have called sass, but more regal, like a Liepard looking down at an annoying Purrloin with fluid impatience.

"That you became Champion thanks to Reshiram, and not of your own strength," she said. "That you're nothing without being the Hero of Truth. That you might, perhaps, be less than nothing, because you are a fake, and you are the type of person who despises falsehoods and deceptions."

Hilbert laughed unhappily. "Don't make me sound like the ideal Hero of Truth," he said. He hadn't thought anything like that. He just could not live with the idea of standing on a throne he did not deserve, because fake things were as stable as a sandcastle and dissolved into a shapeless mess at the first wave that came in.

He was the Hero of Truth, and because of that very – truthful – status he was afraid that one day, the title of 'Champion' would be taken from him. That his name would be struck off the supposed-to-be forever records and be dragged through the mud.

N had once been king, a chosen hero, elevated so high – and the higher the rise, the harder the fall.

Hilbert was afraid of losing his wings of white feathers and blue flames one day and realizing too late that the fall was something he could not survive.

Dawn ignored him. "It's not common knowledge that I am the Avatar of Giratina," she said. "My meeting the Renegade was done privately. Well," she amended, frowning. "More private than yours. It's not exactly something known to the general public."

Yeah, he picked that up from the lack of anything relating to the Renegade on her Bulbapedia page. His page was locked to prevent arbitrary editing, just like hers, but there was no section under constant debate in an attempt to accurately inform the world about a connection to a god without speculating on unknown details.

"Arguably," she said. "My ascension as Champion of Sinnoh is far falser than yours. At least your people know that you have been chosen by Reshiram. But shall I let you know of a secret?"

Dawn leaned closer, so close that he could make out specks of darkness in her blue eyes.

 _"I don't care_."


End file.
